Misfits
by InterNutter
Summary: [Contains swears and violence] Sara is having her typical bad hair day, right up until her skin starts to change to match the decor. It just gets more problematic from there on in.[No relation to Dark-Raven354's story] Updated daily!
1. 1

  
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is Sara. Oh, and the story concept. Just about everything else is owned by Marvel and probably Foxglove.  
  


**Misfits  
**

  
InterNutter and Foxglove  
  
The aging step-through died on the crest of the last hill.  
"Aw, c'mon, Eileen..." complained the rider. They pushed the vehicle forward as if they were riding a scooter, and coasted down into the parking lot, using their sandshoes as brakes.  
Eileen didn't really need the bike lock that the rider wrapped in complicated loops through and around her. It was just there to stop anyone towing her off as junk.  
Sara unbuckled her helmet and stowed it in the seat, then slung on her heavy backpack and slouched towards school and her locker.  
Another day, another dead rat.  
This particular specimen had been "rescued" from a class dissection and had half its innards splayed about the floor of her locker space.  
Sara just reached for the **other** pocket with the hole in it and drew out a plastic bag. She kept her face neautral as she encapsulated the corpse and dumped it unceremoniously into the nearest bin.  
"Sara, Sara, plain and tall..."  
_ Oh **damn**. She's two minutes early..._  
"When you got height, you got it all," Janine beamed at her, showing off her brackets. She was almost the polar opposite of Sara, being short and rounded where Sara was tall and thin. "When you got beauty, you were sore - you were stuck behind the door!"  
It was a daily ritual. "One of these days, Janine," Sara promised, "even **you** will grow weary of that little ditty, and have nothing left but the novelty of a simple 'hello'."  
But Janine wasn't listening. She was primping her copper-coloured curls at a boy who was desperately avoiding her eye. "What's up? Still sweet sixteen and never been kissed?"  
"Let's just say that I'm getting bored," said Sara, heading off that particular rhyme. "I'm thinking of a behavioral experiment."  
"What? Sticking a penny to the floor again?"  
"Please, I did that already. No. **This** time, I'm thinking random pennies in random, obviously-stuck places. Walls, ceilings, the undersides of glass tables... I can use the school security cams to monitor them an--"  
The next thing she knew, she was staring at some blood pooling on the linoleum, and Janine had vanished.  
Whoever was dripping was real close. Practically right on top of her.  
And then the pain blossomed from her temple.  
"Oh frell," she muttered, touching the area. _Ouch._ She stood and found the locker she'd collided with. No visible rust, therefore there was at a reduced risk of tetanus.  
_ What am I thinking? I've **had** my shots._ "Stupid girl," she muttered. Hand over her wound, she made it to the nurse's office shortly before the bell rang.  
"Hall pass?" said the school nurse.  
"But - I got here before the bell..."  
"I didn't **see** you before the bell. Go to your class and get a hall pass."  
Sara sighed and plodded back to first period.  
"You're late, Mister Essel."  
Half the school or more seemed to think she was a boy named Adrian Essel. She didn't bother correcting anyone.  
Sara held up her gory hand. "I **do** have a valid excuse."  
"You've been **fighting**," he announced. "Straight to the office. Now!"  
"But--"  
"Must I escort you?"  
"No," Sara murmured. "Though I'm sure you can't get the locker to press charges." It was a long walk to the office and, despite the pressure on the wound, she was bleeding like a stuck pig. Her head hurt and she was feeling all - woobly.  
There was no-one at the desk when she got there, so she took a ticket and found a seat that looked easily cleanable. Sara leaned back in it and closed her eyes. _Hurry up,_ she thought to the invisible office staff. _I think I need stitches..._  
Her unencumbered hand fell lax onto the pebbled plastic surface of the cheap chair. It would take sharp eyes to notice that the skin of her hand changed to match the colour and texture of the surface it rested on.  
The human eye is naturally drawn to the sight of blood, so in a way, she was extremely lucky that she was bleeding.

* * *

AN: It's slow going translating all this stuph to HTML just so I can distribute it on FFN (the pack of mangy bastids...) so if y'all want to read more of this, quicker, pop on over to Nutfiction(dot)net - where I have six chapters up already. Tell all your friends - NFN is user-friendly! 


	2. 2

  
There was just no question about it. Today was not going to be one of the cool ones. He'd get through it anyway, but it would help if the speedtalker shut up just for a **minute** to allow Todd's brain to zone out of reality. Instead, every second had that too sharp awareness - allowing everything in at once. His brain could shut nothing out - not the cold, nor background noise, or the acidic emptiness in his stomach.   
"SothenItoldherIwouldbebetter**off**withaslutcomparedtowhat**she**was, andshetotallybitchslappedme! ME!!! Iwaslike, 'ohnoyoudidn't' andIwouldaslappedherrightback, butCoachSandersonwasall--"   
"So wait," Lance interrupted in untimely fashion, "Some common girl managed to slap **you**?"   
Freddy's shoulders began shaking with laughter. Todd would've joined in if he was feeling half as less disoriented. He managed a smirk.   
Pietro scowled at the older boy. "Yeah, she slapped me. No powers at school, duh, or I swear I woulda -"   
"You'd never hit a lady," said Lance.   
"That was so totally not a lady!"   
"Ha." Todd rummaged in his backpack, hopefully. "I think Lance meant you'd never hit someone with an innie."   
Todd's questing hand closed around the remains of a poptart. He pulled out the stale cherry frosted breakfast pastry and bit into it. Finally, something that didn't have legs attached.   
His next bite closed on air. "Hey!" he cried out, noticing the sudden absence of the poptart. Pietro glanced at him quizzically.   
"What?" the slender boy asked, licking crumbs from his fingers.   
"That was my breakfast yo!"   
"Eat a bug."   
"I've been **doing** that all **week**. I'd like some real food for a change!"   
"So would we. You get more nutrition than we do with those bugs, so stop whining," Pietro retorted.   
"Like I'd ever not share insects with my bestest pals," Todd feigned an injured tone.   
"Hakuna Matata," Fred joked. He patted Todd's back. "Don't worry about it. We'll do fine without them."   
Todd rolled his eyes and walked toward the lockers.   
"He really okay on just bugs?" Lance asked Pietro.   
"Think of all that protein. How could he not be?"   
"I'd rather not," Alvers muttered. "Okay. I'm off to skip geometry. Pietro, you have free period next. Why don't you steal us all something for lunch? And I mean **all** of us. You **do** owe him breakfast."   
"Cheep, cheep, cheep, Mother hen."   
Pietro expertly dodged Lance's swat. "Wiseass." 

Todd grumbled all the way to his locker. He stood carefully to the side as he opened it so he didn't get sprayed in the face by his own booby trap in case he wasn't careful. He'd started putting traps in his locker - the type that sprayed shaving cream, slime, and Hawaiian Punch in random flavors of the week. It was just a kick to come back to find the locker swinging open with evidence of its exploded contents, even if he had to clean it up afterwards and take books spackled with several shades of tropical punch to class.   
Even if he got the crap beaten out of him later for trying to one-up the bullies.   
The trap was spent, from earlier that morning or last night. There were pieces of shaving cream all over his biology book. Could be worse. Todd took the book out and shut the locker. There would be no need to set it up again until the weekend. Best to allow for them to take retribution and think they'd taught **him** a lesson.   
Tolensky ducked behind a showcase of sports trophies as he spotted Graydon, Duncan and Bruce walking down the hall. He wished he hadn't; they saw him anyway.   
"Hey, Toady. What's up?" Duncan said, leaning against the wall beside him. Todd gulped.   
"N-Nothin' Duncan. S'up wit you?" Best to answer. Silence was taken as form of rudeness.   
"I'm fine. Had a nice score last night. She was pretty tight. Man did she scream."   
Todd tried not to squirm. He knew what question they were going to ask next.   
"How bout you?" Duncan asked, looking down at Todd. "You score lately?"   
"N-No, Duncan. I haven't. And I don't think it's all that big a deal, really."   
Graydon and Bruce burst into snickering. They were surrounding him in a circle. One beside him, one before him, the other and the glass showcase blocking his exit to the right.   
"Why not?"   
"I dunno. Guess I'm just a hopeless romantic?" Wrongthingtosay, wrongthingtosay. Todd closed his eyes as the laughter became raucous. He didn't know why he tried to be cool with them. He just knew that it was safer than running, and that the laughter hurt about as much as the beatings did.   
"You're hopeless all right. Pick out a girl and screw her already. Unless of course you're **not** a dyke."   
Ow. "I'm not." Todd's voice was small. "Just rumors, you know?"   
"I wouldn't know," Bruce admitted. "But I ain't never seen you shower after gym."   
Oh no... not that.   
"What have you got to hide, man? That fact that you aren't one?" Duncan slapped hi-fives with Graydon. The trio departed with more laughter, leaving Todd to study the floor with undue fascination. Anything to avoid the eyes of others. Their conversation had been loud enough to carry down the entire hall.   
Todd shifted his book and notepad and walked to the labs, trying to look careless. As if words like that would make him come apart, compared to everything else he dealt with. He could handle it, yo. Long as he kept telling himself...   
"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Tolensky."   
"So sorry to hold up the learning process, Mr. Priscen. Hope you weren't to terribly stumped without me here."   
Whoa. Where the hell had **that** come from?   
"Office it is, yo," Todd sighed, doing an about turn even before Mr. Priscen could even point toward the hall and sputter.

* * *

When Todd got to the office, the secretary was playing 'phone tag.   
"Bayville High, please hold..." she intoned. "Bayville High, please hold... Bayville High, please hold..."   
Todd took a ticket, then noticed the other guy who had. "Jesus H. frikkin' Christ on a crutch!"   
"**MISTER** Tolensky!" The secretary barked. "Sorry, sir, I'm transferring your call, now." Momentarily free from the 'phones, she stood. "Do you **really** want to earn a detention this early in the day?"   
"But this dude's bleeding to death, yo..." Todd pointed at the lanky guy sprawled into a cheap chair. "Lookit that blood."   
She did. "Oh my **goodness**!" She escaped from the tangle of lines and cables and rushed over to the victim. "Mister Essel. Mister Essel, can you hear me?"   
"Wnf? Oh. 'M sorry, I musta dozed off. C'n I have a hall pass?"   
"A hall pass?" Todd blurted. "Yo' need a **paramedic**, foo'... Lookit all the **blood**..."   
Essel did. "Whoah. I'd relax. It only looks that much 'cause it's all spread out. Can't be more'n a teacup. I just need a hall pass so I can see th' nurse..." His gaze drifted down to his hand. "Okay... that's new..."   
Todd looked. The kid's hand was matching the chair he sat on. Todd moved quickly to cover it and fake helping him up. "Hey, yo. Why don'cha write us both th' hall pass an' I'll help him to the nurse? I know yo' busy, so I can jus' recite the whole 'education is a privilege' speech an' get on back to class, right?"   
The secretary was only too glad to sign two slips and send them on their way.

"Okay," murmured Sara. Her elbow was currently on Mr Tolensky's shoulder, more for stability than support. Like anything of a liquid nature in her presence, the blood was getting around. Her samaritain was gaining transfer smears as much as she was. "I simply **must** be hallucinating... but usually a blow to the temple causes some small personality hiccoughs, not illusions... so why did it appear as if my hand was plastic?"   
"It **was**, yo," said Mr Tolensky. "That was frikkin' close, dawg. Yo' can't let nobody know yo' a mutant."   
Blink. "I'm a what, now?"   
Tolensky glared at her. "You mean yo' don't **know**?"   
"I don't know a great many things," she announced. "...'s why I'm in Remedial Ed. So tell me all about the sort of thing that I'm supposed to be, now."   
"First, make yo' skin go normal, 'kay?"   
Sara looked. One hand matched the heavy canvas of her backpack that she dragged with her, and the other matched Tolensky's vest. "Oh **my**..." She focussed for a moment on making it go back. "Will that do?" Once again, she was terrifyingly pale and her arms were covered with scars.   
"Coo'. Keep it that way. Yo' still need t' get stitched up. Okay. Brief skinny. Mutants got this X-gene that does really weird stuff, y'know?"   
"Ah," said Sara with much sarcasm. "Mother **will** be impressed."   
"Whatever. So yo' got this gene an' it activated, makin yo' do that skin thing," he continued leading her towards the school infirmary. "Thing **is**, yo' can't let nobody know or yo' a smear."   
"Fascinating," she said. "But I thought peasants with torches were banned by the Geneva Convention."   
"When they angry an' got rocks, nobody cares about Geneva," Tolensky said. "Just play it coo', yo. I try t' talk to yo' 'bout it at lunch. Deal?"   
"If I'm conscious by lunch. I feel so much like Alice..."   
Another stare. "Whatever."

* * *

Essel wasn't all that heavy, but his weight was starting to drag a little. Todd looked over at 'him' to see eyelids drooping.   
"Yo, you can't doze off foo'. Talk to me."   
Sara's eyes opened at a sluggish pace. "If you don't mind babbling, sure. I don't think I can stay focused."   
"Small talk. Tell me bout yourself. Go on and babble, I wanna know you're still alive."   
"How d'you know about mutants?"   
Todd paused as Sara's feet caught up to his. "I am one. I'll tell you later. I don't think you should focus on mutants now."   
"But it's more interest'n th'n I am..." Sara mumbled.   
"Try me, yo. Where'd you get the gash?"   
"Um..."   
Okay, that was going nowhere. "You got a hobby? Pet peeve? Pets? Anything." Todd knew damn well whom the blame would rest upon if Essel ended up requiring an ambulance ride. The person who'd **given** him the injury wasn't it.   
The nurse's office door was closed. Todd knocked by means of kicking it.   
"Excuse me!" the indignant response came from within. High heels clacked over to the door and yanked it open. "The proper way to knock, Mr. Tolensky, is not with - good **God**, Mr. Essel! **Another** fight?"   
Todd snorted and with his free hand handed over the hall passes. "Yeah, sure, skinny just goes lookin' for trouble. In the meantime, nevermind the frikkin' 'ketchup' stains on Matthews' shoes."   
The nurse glared. "Move him inside please. And have a seat." Todd half- dragged in the taller student and placed her on the sick bed in a sitting up position. Sara groaned as her head bumped against the wall.   
"Sorry, yo. You're just so **tall**."

* * *

"Never mind," said Sara. "It's blunter than the locker." She stumbled into the bed, dumping her bag as she sat down. "I wouldn't mind so much if something of the ilk didn't happen every day..."   
"You get in fights every **day**?" Tolensky boggled.   
"With various inanimate objects, perhaps... The lockers are just the end of a rather long list. Walls, doors, Vlad..."   
"Vlad?"   
The nurse arrived with a standard waiver form. "Fill this out, please."   
"The hell?" Tolensky stopped the nurse vanishing again. "Yo, the dude's **bleeding**..."   
"And school policy prevents me from touching him without a completed waiver form. If he was unconscious, I'd have to call 911."   
Sara started writing block letters onto the sheet. "It's a standard thing, these days. So many litigious parents waving claims of abuse. Quickest way to stop it is to prevent all staff from touching **any** student. Hmp. Seemed to have regurgitated a thesaurus of late..."   
"It's **nuts**." He hovered on escaping, then leaned towards the clipboard. "Need any help, dawg?"   
"A few tissues to prevent bloodstains," she said. "Otherwise, I can still focus and write on the lines... is hospital a bad word for -er- 'us'?"   
"Itoleyashuddapaboutthat..." he hissed.   
That would be a 'yes'. _Hm. Reason for requiring physical contact..._ Sara wrote, "Bleeding all over the scenery."   
Tolensky was craning his neck. "Who the fuck is Sara Louise Adrien? I thought yo' was some guy named Essel."   
"You and most of the school," she muttered. Were her words slurring? No matter. As long as her skin was pink, she didn't need to fret. "My last name sounds like a first name, and with the two initials, I become Adrian Essel. My efforts to get people to remember the real me are... moot." She sighed. "Only two more years. I can survive two more years. Not including this one, of course."   
The next line read, "Cause of mishap:"   
"Yo, put down 'Duncan Matthews'..." suggested Tolensky. Then he did a classic double-take. "Yo' a **GIRL**?"   
"**Mister** Tolensky..." warned the nurse.   
Sara held a bloody finger in front of her lips. "Shhh... it's my secret identity. I'm sure if Matthews knew my true gender, he'd be trying to ruin me for all mankind, rather than shoving me into inanimate objects." She wrote, "Unknown force moved head to intersect locker corner," instead.   
The nurse had had enough. "Mister Tolensky, if you aren't here for any valid reason, you can go back to your class."   
"He's here to take dictation if my vision fails, Ms Ogg."   
Ms Ogg didn't think much of **that**. "There's a sink in the next room. At least get all that blood off you before you go."   
Sara mouthed, "Sorry," at him, then signed the waiver.   
Ms Ogg took it without reading it and ungently removed the existing semi-crust of gore. "Can't close that with butterfly sutures. I'm going to have to give you some stitches. How are you with pain medication?"   
"Horrendous. I'm the point zero one five percent that gets weird reactions to over-the-counter medication."   
"Half a CVS(1) paracetamol it is," said Ms Ogg. She made Sara press her fingers to a medical pad while she vanished into the lockroom for the medication(2).   
"Psst..." Tolensky poked his head around a corner. "Yo' gonna be okay?"   
Sara managed a brave smile. "I'm quite used to pain. Don't fret."   
He made a face as if not fretting was never an option. "The name's Todd. Todd Tolensky."   
"Sara Louise Adrien," she supplied, in case he forgot. "Plain and tall."   
"Ain't arguin' wit' th' tall," he grinned. "The plain... I dunno..."   
"You're being nice," she said. "I saw you boggle when you found out my real self. I get mistaken for a boy. It happens."   
"**Mister** Tolensky..."   
"Whoop... argue later. Survive now." And then he was gone, sandshoes squeaking down the hall.   
He was the first person to actually **worry** about her... who wasn't a teacher.

Todd, once around the first corner, dawdled so long in getting to his first class that he was actually early for his second.   
And **that** period, he spent rewinding everything he'd ever done to his fellow students and looking for a tall, gangly figure in the middle of ground zero.   
There **were** several food fights with Freddy in the middle, but Sara was on the edge. Fading out of view unless the Angry Straight Males happened to be offended by her breathing.   
It shocked him to think of it as background noise, before. He'd thought that if it wasn't happening to him, then it wasn't his problem.   
_I'm quite used to pain,_ she'd said.   
His vindictive play-by-play memory zoomed in on the scars up and down her forearms. Long, thin lines, criss-crossing and intersecting. New over old...   
Defensive wounds.   
He knew **that** jargon from watching domestics when he was still living in the tenements. People threw up their hands to protect their eyes or face, and got the scars on their arms, instead.   
_I'm quite used to pain..._   
There were some people, he knew, who deliberately inflicted their own wounds along their arm. Not suicidal, no. Just wanting to control the pain they felt by making themselves bleed.   
But those people almost always made patterns in their flesh.   
Sara's arms bore no reasonable design.   
He doodled in the back of his book, tracing the lines on her arms as they'd appear if she were protecting herself.   
Either she was facing an ambidexterous assailant with a thing for swapping grips, or something else had caused those marks.

"Just try to raise your head, I need to wrap you with some gauze."   
"...nnngghh..." Zombie-like, Sara tried to obey. She could barely get her head to twitch. She felt too heavy. As if the table was all that was stopping her from sinking wholesale into the centre of the Earth.   
Ms Ogg lifted her head up for her. "You weren't kidding about the reactions, were you?"   
"...nnngghh..."   
The nurse sighed. "I'm going to have to lay in a supply of infant's painkillers. That's going to look interesting."   
"...y' keep sayin' 'at... b't ch' allus f'get..."   
Ms Ogg wrote herself a post-it note. "There," she slapped it onto the board. "Now I have a memo."   
Sara would have been heartened if the memo hadn't landed in amongst a flock of twenty identical ones.   
"There. That's all I can do for you. Please consult your personal physician at your earliest convenience. And since you're still technically conscious, I have to send you to your next class."   
Joy. Remedial Math with Mr Kawalski. She hated to disappoint him, so.   
Ms Ogg helped her lift her backpack, and guided her to the door. From there, Sara was on her own.   
It was a long, slow, dizzying walk to Remedial Math.   
"What happened to your **head**?" demanded Janine in passing.   
"Skin plus locker equals blood," Sara slurred. Damn medication. She felt floaty and heavy and dizzy all at the same time. "I think it was fourteen stitches..."   
But Janine was gone.   
When she slumped into her chair in the Remedial Ed. room, three different people including her study-buddy Freddy asked what happened to her.   
"Did you hit your head?"   
"Nah... I w's mugged by a locker," she managed.   
Mr Kawalski took one look at her and announced, "Instant quiet-time. Don't do anything that makes you fall over."   
"...nnngghh..." said Sara, and gently rested her head on her desktop.

(1) Out here in Australia, we have several 'brands' of generic items. These include 'No Name', 'No Brand' and 'Black Label'. Apparently, CVS is the NY equivalent.   
(2) No matter the paucity of official medication on a school campus, the official policy is to lock it up as if every drug junkie in town is going to want to share some.

* * *


	3. 3

  
Todd left off tracing the scars to doodle the memory of Sara's face. He was no Picasso, but he could make a passable portrait if he felt inclined. The hair went so... if Sara let it grow out a little more, it might be wavy.   
Then the nose and eyes. Sara's eyebrows were more or less responsible for making her look like a boy. Everything else, from her cheekbones to her lips was either delicate or strong. The mixture was different from the average cheerleader, but different in a **good**, almost refreshing way.   
Sara was beautiful. Nobody realized it with all the painted faces, big hair, and exploding bosoms (whether genuine or stuffed) parading around the halls. Todd tilted his head to examine his handiwork. It was hard to criticize, for the subject rather than the skill.   
She'd **talked** to him too. Without laughing or making puking noises once his back was turned. Without the false sweetness Trish pulled on him once to get him to steal soda for her. On top of that, she was a mutant. The goody goods hadn't seen her, Todd noted with some hint of pride. Summers and Grey, the everloving Scout Leaders, had only preached Xavier's folderoy to the obvious and the well-endowed.   
They'd continue to look over Sara. Todd was sure of it. If they didn't find value in a frog-boy with legs that could kick holes in walls and car doors, they wouldn't even bother with a girl who could turn into wallpaper. None of them were outcast enough to see her. And even if they were, Todd wasn't going to allow them to pretend they did.   
**He'd** been burned that way once. He had scorch marks on the inside of a thigh and along his left hip to prove it.   
He'd talk with her at lunch. There would be no recruiting. Recruiting was done with. Over. The only thing he wanted to do was talk to her and help her understand who she was and how to stay alive. The Brotherhood's sole function now was staying alive. And lately, foraging the wood for berries and squirrels. Another mouth to feed let alone another **girl** was not gonna go over well with the guys.   
The only thing he **didn't** want was to lose her. For some reason, the thought of her staring at him like Rogue did now hurt him desperately.   
(Todd knew **why** Rogue looked at them like that. She loved Scott. Scott disliked the Brotherhood. Rogue therefore wanted to be fully cleansed and hated the Brotherhood for sullying her in Scott's crimson vision. It was sort of pathetic really...)   
Todd was broken out of his reverie by a spitball smacking into the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, irritated, peeled off the wet projectile and tossed it over his shoulder. The snickering paused, replaced by invisible daggers. He must've had a hit. _Good,_ He smirked. _Maybe that'll teach 'em._   
**Thhhppp** (splat, splat, splat, splat)   
_Fuuuuck._

* * *

Lunchtime. Sara had partially resolved to subsist on aging twinkies and some of those rat bars she'd purchased at a survivalist's shop. It was better than running the daily gambit of attempting to avoid Jock's legs as she went through the cafeteria.   
Freddy, however, had other ideas.   
"C'mon, Sara... let me get your lunch for ya. Nobody messes with **me**."   
She sighed. In a way, she was glad he wanted to be helpful, in another, she sort of regretted that his world view included being tougher and meaner than everyone as a means of getting what he wanted.   
She fished out her wallet and gave him a small bundle of twenties. "Here. Lay on a small feast. I'm expecting company."   
"Janine again?" Freddy made a face. He didn't like Janine.   
"No... a mister Tolensky."   
"What? **Todd**?"   
"You know him," Sara smiled. "Excellent. Lunch for three, then. Do you need more money?"   
Fred counted them. "**Sara**..." he whispered. "This is over a hundred **bucks**..."   
"And this is the fourth time you've worn those gravy stains," she said, traces of Boston emerging as she pointed out the smears on his overalls. "I can always tell when you're down on your budget cycle, Frederic... You can't afford washing powder."   
"It don't feel right, takin' your money. I know how your Mom can get."   
"Frederic, dear, I **do** run quite a number of scams to make up the gap. I probably won't even notice the difference." She made tiny little shoo-ing motions. "Go on. Keep the change."   
A team of wild stallions couldn't have moved him, ordinarily; but her thin, flicking fingers had power over him. Freddy walked away to the cafeteria line, fist closed solidly over the money she'd given him.   
Sara hid the wallet it came from under the feminine hygene things. Most teenagers were squeamish to the extreme about any kind of feminine hygene. So therefore a packet of maxi pads was bound to stop even the bravest of schoolbag thieves.   
Well, except that mysterious person who'd abducted her bag one day and scattered the whole of its contents over the entirety of the campus. That was a doubly unpleasant afternoon. Mostly because she spent it in the company of her schoolgirl crush, Mr Hinkley - who now believed she was a very emotionally disturbed young gay or transsexual male.   
Life sucked.   
Sara spotted Todd and smiled a little.   
Okay. Maybe it didn't suck **too** badly.

Todd found her before she saw him.   
In times past, that sort of pose dictated 'victim here'. Hell, there would have been a time when he'd sneak up on her and try to raid her for cash. Not that he'd done that kind of thing. At least, not to her. His pickpocket brain classified her as Wallet-Not-In-Pants, and therefore not an easy mark.   
_Yo, quit thinkin' of her as a potential victim. Yo' just gonna give her survival tips. That's it. How to be a mutie in ten easy lessons._   
Then she saw him and smiled.   
Todd's heart leaped into his throat and did a rhumba.   
_Maybe a hundred easy lessons,_ he thought. _She **is** in Remedial Ed. And hey - who knows? Maybe she wants me..._ That last thought, though, was extremely tenuous. Nobody wanted to spend time with a toad.   
But then... she hadn't exactly wanted to **avoid** him, either.   
And her face lit right up when she smiled at him.

This is Sara as she really appears. She's tall, standing at 5'11" in her socks, and still hasn't finished growing. Everything about her is stretched out, as if she was photographed in cinemascope and then squeezed to fit into a television. Her knees, elbows, hands and feet have yet to be grown into. Her skin is pale. Her hair is not.   
Imagine the sort of hairstyle worn by the children of economical parents. That is Sara's hair in the shade of brown. It rather resembles a solid shape designed to fit snugly over the ears and brow, and just stopping short of the neck.   
Her body shape is deceptively thin. And, alas for her aspirations towards looking like a girl, she still wears a training bra.   
With the loose T-shirts and stiff jeans, it's small wonder that she gets mistaken for a male.

Todd floated over to her on cloud nine. "Hey," he said.   
Sara blushed. Todd thought it gave her face life. "Hello. Do you mind that I bought lunch? Freddy's getting it. I gather you know him."   
His gaze instantly zoomed over to the behemoth in the queue. He was gathering three trays and -what?- collecting **change**.   
"Yeah, me an' Fred are ole pals," he said, possibly on automatic. "Are you an him - er..."   
"Fred and I are study-buddies. We help each other with the Remedial Ed. work. He's my sounding board. I'm his explainer."   
_And this means exactly what in the social standings?_ "Um. So... yo' not lookin' fo' a boyfriend?"   
Her eyebrow raised. "Mr Tolensky, I thought you were here to discuss Mutants 101..." Odd, now there was more than a trace of Boston in her words. "Or was your intent to deceive?"   
"No, no. Honest, we can get to that... I was just. Youknow. Wonderin'."   
"My appologies," Boston was gone again as she flicked out a chair. "Please. Sit. Tell me what I need to know."   
Todd sat, affecting a comfortable slouch to disguise his froggy way of perching. "First off, yo' gotta play wise, y'know? Yo' can't let nobody know yo' a mutant."   
Sara's fascinated smile fell to a worried frown. "Not even my **Dad**?"   
In Todd's experience, fathers were the last people to drag into it. "Yo, parents get funny, y'know? It'll just make it weird. Or fatal."   
Wide eyes. "Fatal?"   
"Some people, they jus' want ordinary kids, yo." And the less said about that, the better. Momma and her murder-suicide stunt could just stay his dirty little secret. "Better to let 'em believe they got one."   
"Can I stay normal-for-me?" she asked. "Because acting like one of **them**--" she pointed out the chest-stuffing, makeup-covered cheerleaders, "--is completely against my style. Besides, I'll only ever be popular as a joke."   
Todd winced. That was the second time she'd belittled herself in as many meetings. "Yeah, normal for you is fine. I just meant play it casual. You got yo'self a big secret, a'ight? Yo' better off workin' out what'cha can do an' how useful it is on yo' own. But workin' out how to pass is mo' important."   
"Like wearing those bracers so that people don't look at the webs on your hands?" she suggested.   
_Day-umn..._ "Yo' **good**..." he grinned.   
Freddy arrived with the food, and placed a tray in front of each of them. He was, as always, generous with the portions. He laid a twenty, a five, and some miscellaneous change in the middle.   
"Frederic, I told you to keep the change..."   
"But I don't **feel** right taking your money," he complained.   
Todd squeaked. Twenty-five dollars and **change**... That could buy a whole lot of Rice-a-roni.   
"I can **spare** it," Sara insisted. "Freddy, **please**... I don't like hearing that you resorted to violence to pay for your essentials. Think of it - as protection money for the entire campus."   
Todd's fingers twitched to take it.   
Fred hung his head. "Actually, that kinda makes me feel worse."   
_What are ya, **nuts**?_ Todd mentally screamed at his teammate. _Takeit! She wants yo' to!_   
Sara laid a companionable hand on his arm. Next to Fred, she looked frail and easily breakable. "Freddy... I know you're proud, dear. But I **know** you can use the money. Please?"   
Shamed though he was to admit it, Todd started thinking about ways he could seperate the girl from any other money she could spare.   
Fred hung his head, not taking the cash.   
Sara sighed and shook her head, not taking the cash, either. "Okay. So lesson one is 'blend'. Are we free to discuss lesson two?"

* * *

Todd had to force himself to look away from the money. Sara's face was much more attractive than Jefferson's, fortunately. "Okay, so number two then. You gotta learn control over yo' powers. You **don't** want anymore near accidents like we had in the office. Otherwise, it's gonna be hell tryin' to explain."   
Sara bit into an apple. "Okay," she said, after chewing and swallowing. "So where and how do I learn this control?"   
"Practice where people can't see you. And research chameleons, yo, 'cause that's the critter who's got the most relevance to your gifts." Todd tried not to think about what his research on toads had brought up. Shedding skin(1)... ewwww. And the soap toxins, as if Uncle Manny(2) wasn't bad enough to scare him away from the shower. He was fairly hopeful that chameleon-study wasn't going to make Sara yak. "I know a couple of books you could use. Maybe we could meet in the library after school."   
"Just keep me away from Terry Pratchett and the fantasy section, and we might actually get something done."   
"Huh?"   
"Um. I'm a bookworm. A fantasy bookworm."   
"S'cool. I don't go into reading much. Lately haven't had time for it." Todd shrugged. His eyes dropped again to the money and flicked away from it, landing instead on Sara's scars. He stiffened in surprised embarrassment.   
Sara blushed and smoothed her sleeves down to cover them.   
"Sorry, didn't mean to stare," the frog-boy mumbled. "But... is that what Freddy meant when he mentioned how your mom 'can get'? 'Cause if it is, you might wanna consider... I dunno. We don't got much food but you've got money so that's not a problem for you, and we got some empty rooms at the boarding house, and it'd at least be a place to **stay** if you got into trouble."   
_Come live with me, pleeeease?_ Todd had to physically restrain himself from adding that; he bit the tip of his tongue. Now it was Todd's turn to blush and duck as he felt both Fred and Sara staring at him.   
"What do you think I meant?" Fred asked, genuinely puzzled.   
"Did your mom or someone give you those?" Todd asked, getting right to the point.   
Sara stared. He seemed genuinely concerned whether she was being abused. Nobody had even **noticed** except for Janine, who'd spread the rumor that she was a cutter. Janine later expressed that she'd done Sara a favor; wasn't everyone nicer now that they thought she might kill herself? The rumor had flopped of course, people were more ready to believe Adrian Essel owned about forty cats rather than a cutter's angst. The scars didn't look **that** deep anyway.   
"These aren't from any **person**," she explained. "They're from Vlad."   
"The Impaler?" Todd joked, unable to resist.   
"The school harp. A regular bloodsucker."   
"Heh. Good to know." Tolensky actually sounded like he was **breathing** easier. Sara shook her head. It was only imagination. Nobody could care for her that much.

(1) Toads are known to shed their skin like snakes - when they are young, every two weeks. Older toads shed once a month (which might explain the monthly shower Todd takes - to soothe the itching.) Not only that, but according to textbooks I've read, toads **eat** their shed skin to regain lost nutrients. Yak, indeed. I don't think that fact went over very well with Todd.   
(2) InterNutter created Uncle Manny. He was a sexual predator who attacked young Todd in the bathtub when Todd was living in the tenements. Soap is poisonous to amphibians because their skin is so porous that the soap is absorbed into the bloodstream. The chemical toxins and lye kills them. Todd is also mammal, so I don't think this would affect him the same way - it would just make him sick for a while. Couldn't have helped his hygiene morale to **read** about it though.

* * *

_Rule One: Blend. Rule Two: Practice for control's sake, and don't let anyone **see** you practice. Rule Three: Know your animal._ Sara did her best to memorise those rules as she ate. Considering the necessary secrecy, it would be more than wise to not keep anything written.   
Something occurred to her. "It's not just chameleons, you know."   
"Hmn?" Todd surfaced from his mental wanderings. "Whut?"   
"The skin-blending thing. It isn't just chameleons. Octupi and Squid can change their skin colour and even their surface texture."   
"Maybe," said Freddy. "But you ain't gonna like goin' around by 'SquidGal' or somethin'."   
And seeing as how Freddy **knew** about this... maybe he was in deeper than he seemed. "We really need a hankerchief code."   
Both boys boggled at her.   
"Was I speaking in tongues again?" she asked.   
"Naw. Just from left field," said Freddy.   
"What's a hankerchief code?"   
Sara grinned. "I believe it belongs to San Francisco... There's so many prefereance variations over there that the potential for mutual embarresment is overwhelming... so each society developed a different way of folding hankerchieves into a visible pocket. Possibly it included variations for taken, looking, and not looking... The point **is** - if mutants could easily recognize who was whom, without letting the -er- mundanes(1) know... there'd be a better chance for sociallization."   
Freddy looked down. Todd looked nervous.   
"Uh... yeah. 'Bout that..."   
Sara raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me. There's mutant gangs?"   
"Kinda," said Freddy.   
"Well, there's us in the 'hood, y'know? We call ourselves the Brotherhood. And then there's the X-geeks."   
"They call themselves the X-geeks?"   
"Um. No. They call 'emselves the X-Men, yo," said Todd, twiddling with his spork. "Even though they got skirts in there with 'em."   
Sara had to smirk at the anachronistic moniker for her gender. Most women alive today only wore skirts to interviews. "Gender equality will have to wait another day, hmn?"   
"Sompin' like that... I never understood it myself, y'know? I mean, we had girls livin' wit' us, but we always th' Brotherhood. What **up**? I tried to take it to the boss, youknow, 'cause of discrimination an' all... but he just tole me to shut my yap." There was something else that he wasn't saying about the interview.   
Sara could guess by the way he rubbed at a memory of pain... but she was never one to pry. "You have a boss? Someone in charge?" _Someone **runs** things?_   
"Aaaaahh... less you know 'bout him the better, yo. Take my word fo' it. It don't pay to get his attention."   
Ah. So he **was** warning her... and from the sounds of things, he wasn't in a good place, right now. "You know, that offer of a place to hide can go both ways," she said. "I know of rooms in my house that Mother never goes near. It shouldn't be the work of an afternoon to clear a few of them out and make them hospitable. I can make sure everything's completely hush-hush."

(1) Convention term stemming from Piers Anthony's lovely books. Mundanes are anyone who professes to be "normal".

* * *


	4. 4

AN: Since this is the fixed version, I'd like to take a moment to thank ALL my reviewers, since my previous witty comments are being purged by FFN's stupid policy of not being able to edit chapters once they're installed. Curse them! NFN lets you edit chapters ANYTIME! Go to Nutfiction(dot)net!

Dark-Raven354 - sorry I kinda shredded your fic I was trying to be constructive, though. And thanks for every single one of your comments. Shall we leap from a great height onto the next person to use "Misfits" as a title, together?

Ash - Thanks for supporting NFN... and boggling my mind as to why FFN would edit out its own name...

stupidx - I **LOVE** pointless reviews. I adore them :)

trojjer - Yayz for the adverts. Tell all your fanficcing friends. Leave advert-reviews in poorly-formatted fics... and then we shall TAKE OVER THE WORLD! (narf)

Red Jeannie - Sorry about the confuzzlement, but it should all be fixed, now. It ought to make quite a lot more sense now that it's complete...

Raliena - I adore Pratchett and quite a few others Glad you're enjoying the ficcitude.

* * *

"Sweet of you... but that ain't quite necessary. He ain't around enough to give us real trouble. Always on some mission or other. But y'know... if we do wind up needin' a place we'll look you up."   
_She cares about me!_ Todd's heart squealed in the meantime.   
"So..." Fred shifted. "I guess maybe you oughta know who the X- geeks are. Watch out for **that** one," he said, looking over at a red- headed senior seated at the X-men's table. "She'll pretend to be your friend and stuff... but man can she bite."   
Todd followed Freddy's gaze and nearly rolled his eyes. Sheesh, not the Jean rant again. Granted, she was a class A preppie and a player, and sent Matthews after him whenever the 'hood annoyed her, but... she wasn't... all that...? Okay, he was going to shut up and let Freddy rant for a bit.   
"Who Miss Perfect? Don't worry, I've got her figured. Mom unfortunately think's she's golden."   
"No kidding?" Fred and Sara got busy discussing the evils of one Miss Grey.   
Todd listened for about a minute. Then he shifted on the bench, not liking the way the conversation was steering and liking even less the fact that Freddy and Sara had something to bond over.   
"Ahem," he tried for the third time and got their attention again.   
"My apologies," Sara was blushing faintly and the Boston accent had returned. God she was cute when she did that. Todd could scarce believe he'd just admitted that so easily. "Pray continue?"   
"Er... well, not that Jean **isn't** a bee with an itch, but lunch is almost over and I gotta tell you some more stuff." Todd didn't **mean** to sound as peeved as he was that Sara's attention had strayed. His tone apparently fired off some sort of message because the girl's eyebrow raised and Fred looked sheepish and rather like he was being squished.   
"Such as?"   
_Such as?_ his mind echoed, just as expectantly. _Crap, yo. Ummm..._   
"Erm... contact. In case things go screwy, you need to know where you can go. You know where the Brotherhood Boarding house is, right?"   
"I've driven past it on Eileen once or twice. So yes."   
Todd looked at her oddly. "Who?"   
"My bike." Fred nodded; apparently he'd seen this Eileen beforehand. Todd felt peeved at that too, but he hid it better this time.   
"Okay," he mumbled. "And maybe it would be coo' if we knew whereabout you lived? Or a number or email? Just in case we need to contact you."   
Sara gave the address as well as a phone number that was specifically to her room to avoid her mother screening her calls. Todd scrawled it on a paper napkin along with her email address.   
There was something else bugging him that he needed to tell her and he was hating himself for it. He knew Fred would too... but here went nothing.   
"As whacked as the X-geeks are," Todd said, "If yo ever in a **real** pickle... one we can't help you out with... you should go to them." God that was painful to say. Todd glanced at Freddy and got the shock of his life. Freddy looked **relieved**.   
"Yeah," the giant said, just as begrudging as Todd, though his voice was also full of concern. "Should you need more than us... Xavier will help. Just don't sign no contracts or nothin'."   
"He'll want you to **fight** if you stay on as a boarder. For his little army. And he'll want you to get along with the mundane. Y'know, turn the other cheek and all that crap." Todd couldn't help sounding just a tad bitter. _If Mathtews was beatin' on any of **his** kids, Xavier would wax the mansion floors with his ass. But Matthews is smart, yo, so he beats on the stragglers._

* * *

"Dealing with the mundanes isn't all **that** difficult, is it?" Sara said. "Technically speaking, I was a mundane and Freddy and I got on fine."   
For someone in Remedial Ed., she was pretty sharp. "Do I have to abandon all my friends just because of what I've become?"   
"It's complicated," sighed Todd. He'd never had any real friends since moving to Bayville, and generally kept his company amongst his fellow mutants. All of the Brotherhood were transplants to Bayville. He'd never thought what it would be like to have lived there for a long time, to have connections, and only have them disrupted by manifestation. "I guess you can keep yo' friends an' all... just - be careful? If yo' secret gets out... y'know... life can get **real** nasty. Th' army might wanna take yo' apart so they can make invisible soldiers, y'know?"   
"Yes," Sara said. "I can just imagine..." she winced and scratched at her back. "Ack! Pardon me... urgh... ow... ooooohhh..." She sighed. "Ever had one of those itches that drove you simply **mad**? This one's been prickling at me since third period. Neef."   
Todd found himself laughing even though he also knew the feeling. Once a month, in fact, when he got a new skin all in one go(1). "Hey, yo. Mebbe yo' shedding yo' skin."   
"Ha ha," she deadpanned. "I'm still warm-blooded, aren't I? Just because I can do what I can do doesn't mean I'm turning into a **reptile**(2)."   
"Jus' sayin'," Todd managed. Inwardly, he was kicking himself. "Y'know. Lighten th' moment?" He cringed.   
"Sorry," she said, blushing. "New to mutant humour." The bell rang, summoning everyone to class. "See you after school?"   
_She still wants to see me!_ "Sure thing, yo."   
Sara skipped as she withdrew. 

"...can't get into my shoes... because my shoes refuse... to ever grow weeea-ry..."   
"Singing, Sara?" Janine smirked at her. "What happened to make **you** so happy?"   
"Oh, nothing much," she returned, knowing that if she told, it would be all over the school in nothing flat. "I might be making a friend."   
"A **booooyyyy** friend?" Janine grinned wider. "I saw you flirting with Freddy Dukes..."   
Sara rolled her eyes. "I believe I was sharing lunch with him, Janine."   
"Ooooh! You **deny** it!" Janine squealed. "It's **gotta** be true."   
"As true as your own lesbian tendancies," said Sara in a low mutter. "Do you mind? They might be covering something new in English today."   
The English class, carefully calibrated for students with problems, had been going over the proper placements of nouns and verbs, with some explorations into punctuation - for well over a month.   
"Fine," said Janine. "If you won't tell the truth, I'll just have to draw my **own** conclusions..." she waggled her eyebrows suggestively.   
Nothing had ever stopped her so far. "Whatever." Sara concentrated on keeping her skin its accustomed colour.

(1) I **LOVE** that theory! Let's run with it.   
(2) She'll get irony later.

* * *

Todd was so elated he nearly forgot about the money on the table. Fred was looking at it dolefully. Todd sat back down and waited for Fred to get over it and pick it all up.   
Fred sighed and continued to study it.   
"Oh come on, yo, she **gave** it to us!" Todd burst out. The cafeteria was already thinning out.   
"Yeah, I know, but... it don't feel right. I should give it back to her next period."   
Todd fidgeted and decided to bite. "Why don't it feel right?"   
"'Cause... she earned it, not us. And sometimes her mom cuts her off. Ain't right for us to take it."   
"Unless," the smaller boy added after some thought, "We earn it, right?"   
Fred looked at him. "Uh... I guess? What are you thinkin'?"   
"Well, we're helping her, right?" Todd lowered his voice. "With the whole mutant thing."   
The larger boy scowled. "So you wanna charge by the hour or somethin?"   
"No!" It **was** an idea, but not one Sara wouldn't see through in about five seconds flat. Todd felt a twinge of dismay at the rising dilemma - he cared about what she thought of him and he **liked** her, but goddammit, they **needed** the cash. He was going to have to choose carefully and he was probably gonna fuck it all up anyway. "I'm just sayin' we should take what she freely gives. She wants us to have it, we need it, someday somehow we'll pay her back."   
Fred considered it. "I guess that makes sense."   
"Great, good. Keep the money, make sure it don't fall into Pietro's hands or Tabby's." Todd watched Fred scoop up the change and deposit it in his overall pocket. Good, a high and safe place. Nobody was going to shake Fred Dukes down for **anything**.   
Now he'd better skedaddle before he got a detention for real this time. 

"The dinosaurs in the Triassic era were mostly reptiles and amphibians," Mr. Dronall spoke at the head of the class. "The Triassic era took place during the splitting of Pangea into two continents. The northern continent was known as Laurasia, and was made up of North America, Europe, and Asia. The southern continent..."   
Todd stifled a yawn and put his head down on the desk. Biology was interesting and all, but the teacher was as slow as molasses when it came to lecturing - and man did he try to cram every detail possible into the forty-minute time frame. Other than that, Mr. Dronall was nice and the sort of geeky old man whom the jocks verbally debased in gym class, which meant he didn't consider himself above smiling at the boy whenever they met in the halls.   
For that reason along with others did Todd sit quietly in Dronall's class and try to learn something instead of throwing spitballs at Wagner in the third row.   
"...was named Gondwanaland and was made up of South America, Africa, Australia, Antarctica, and India. Great changes occurred during the Mesozoic time period for plant life..."   
_Maaaan, get back to the amphibians, foo'. You almost had something interestin'._   
Todd sighed and did the only thing that would keep him awake. He opened his standardized textbook and flipped to the chapter about amphibians. Compared to this chapter, the rest of the book was immaculate of highlighter marks and dogeared pages. Todd's eyes skimmed over the bits about the life cycle and he shut his eyes squeamishly as he flipped one page over which contained a detailed photo of a dissected toad.   
Bored with reading over old facts, Todd was almost about to doodle another picture of Sara when he remembered the book also had a reptile chapter or two. Heh, why not. Mr. Dronall was still going on about petrified forests and ginkophytes. Todd flipped to the chapter and began to read.

* * *

Sara rubbed her back on the back of her chair and did her level best not to grunt. That itch was driving her positively berzerk...   
The bell rang, delivering her from English Basics and sending her straight to Elementry Science. It used to be with Dr McCoy, but since he disappeared, Mr Hinkley had been filling in.   
It wasn't nearly as much fun without Dr McCoy, despite the fact that she got to stare at her schoolgirl crush for an hour. Dr McCoy - Sara once enquired and found out he held two doctorates: one medical and one scientific - put on a show that made the learning **interesting**. Even though Sara was learning it again. He'd put up with Sara not opening their books to page whatever.   
But Mr Hinkley... he demonstrated the principle if he had to, and usually made sure that observations were with litmus paper and thermometers. He **quantified** things until the eyelids flickered and drooped. He read directly from the textbook and demanded the class follow with him.   
And, to add insult to injury, Mr Hinkley - the teacher she still loved in a way - believed with all his heart that Sara was Adrian Essel... and that Adrian was gay.   
Not that Sara had anything against anyone being homosexual. She could see the logic. One knew the gender intimately, for example. It's just that she wanted to be recognized as a **female**.   
Mr Hinkley was writing on the board. A simple reaction between acid and alkali. Sara copied it out in full before it was done and turned to her back pages.   
Now there, if anyone cared to look, were pages that DaVinci would have envied. Equations danced between tiny doodles of machinery, circuits, and studies of insects. There was a miniature copy of Hokusai's _The Wave_ in ones and zeroes. There were attempts to write as small as the micro-writing on money.   
Somewhere amongst this, Sara found a blank space and doodled. She drew a phenominally tall princess and a tiny, tiny frog with a little crown. In her miniature hand, she wrote the frog saying, _I'll figure **somethin'** out, yo._   
"Mister **Essel**!"   
It was pointless trying to teach him her name. Sara looked up at the board. He'd left a place blank for answers. "Sodium chloride, commonly known as salt."   
"That's... correct." He stepped up to her desk and gently re-opened her notebook to the correct working page. "I'd appreciate it if you at least **appeared** to be paying attention, Mister Essel. Not creating little artworks in the back of your workbook."   
"If you insist, I'll have to draw in the margins, sir."   
That earned her a death glare. "I'd rather you didn't draw at all, thankyou."   
Ugh.   
Sara found a way to prop herself up so that she appeared to be paying attention and took her mind away. It was a nifty little trick she'd learned from multiple readings of _The Princess Bride_. By taking her mind away, she could be anywhere and anywhen, so long as some small part of her remained to go through the motions.   
Mr Hinkley never noticed she was gone.   
Freddy did. He tapped her shoulder and asked if she was okay at the end of the class.   
Sara came back for his concern. "Just took a one-head holiday," she explained. "I was **bored**."   
"Really? I kinda had trouble with the last bit."   
"Freddy... it's just a journey from unstable to stable. You pick the most stable chemicals out of the reactants and that's **it**."   
"You're in a bad mood," he said. "Is it Mr Hinkley?"   
"I'm - dealing... with Mr Hinkley," she said. "It's today. My back itches like nothing else and I **know** there's no chemical that can get through cotton without some observable side-effects..."   
Freddy just nodded. "I get it. It's the change. I used to get cramps all over everywhere an' I just kinda bloated... Not that I was ever skinny like you."   
"Freddy dear," said Sara. "I would gladly take a few of your pounds - strategically placed, of course - if I could. Alas, voluntary body mass transfer is but a dream."   
Freddy laughed. "I didn't understand that, but it was funny."   
"Tomorrow, Freddy. And scour the dictionary. You'll work it out and I expect you to tell me."   
"Will do."   
Ack. She was late for music.   
It was the only class she ran for. Time with a harp - even if it was Vlad - was time in peace. Time to be the music. Perfect notes, written and appreciated by experts. No-one cared what the harpist looked like. They just listened to the notes that were played.   
Most harps in Sara's experience were little old ladies. Her leased practice instrument at home was mass-produced, so it was a trailer trash grandma... young for the title, but old in terms of generations. Sara called that one Billie-Jo.   
Sara took her seat and double-checked that Vlad's pegs were rammed home. One of those popping out meant a vicious whip of piano wire at high speed.   
Vlad only ever worked if he was strung with piano wire. This generally cut the fingers, so generations of high school harpists used special tape to protect their fingers. Vlad would tolerate fishing line in the higher notes, the exact line of demarcation, B flat above high C, was sacrosanct. Any attempts to go lower were met with breaking cord and bloodshed appropriate to his nickname.   
Vlad didn't like kids, and only tolerated classical music. He could, Sara had noted, be bribed with a mothball pushed into his base. She did that now before Mr Larnblatt(1) could notice her.   
If she was lucky, she'd get through this with only a minor injury.   
Vlad had a temper, and since Sara's interaction with him was at the end of the day, just about anything could set him off.   
She risked a run up the notes. In tune for a change. Lovely.   
Sara made herself sit ready.   
"Now class," said Mr Larnblatt. "We will continue our work on Mozart..." 

It was later. Pain had happened(2).   
The cut was minor, but it was bleeding and it was strategic. Vlad had zapped her **right** as the bell rang, thus forbidding her from entering the office of the school nurse.   
Sara had been obliged to take care of it single-handedly. Literally.   
The new mark went from the pad of flesh opposite the thumb on her right hand, down over her pulse-point, to halfway along her forearm. Butterfly sutures would hold it until she took it home, and a roll of gauze would ensure that the librarian wouldn't kick her out for bleeding on the carpet.   
Now she scoured the reference racks for chamelionic lifeforms. So far, her lanky arms had encapsulated chameleons themselves, squid, octupi and one treatise on octopus skins that had entered into the library by mistake.   
There was nothing more of interest on the shelves, so she returned to a centrally-located table, piled up her books, and waited.   
She would be stoic, come laughter or simple abandonment... should it come to that. Sara was experienced in the matter of pranks, of course, but Todd seemed - genuinely genuine.   
Her head throbbed, a migrane-esque headache emerging from the cut on her temple and the sweaty bandage it hid under. Her whole **back** itched like blue fury and the newest cut on her arm decided to join her head in throbbing.   
This was not a good day. Well. Maybe apart from the friend she'd made. And it was now, sitting alone in the school library, that she would see if she'd been fooled about that.

(1) You might know him better as the zebra music teacher from _Ozy and Millie_ (www(dot)ozyandmillie(dot)org)   
(2) Stolen unashamedly from Terry Pratchett's book _Night Watch_.

* * *


	5. 5

  
The only good part about gym was running laps. Strong leg muscles meant he could put a distance between himself and the jocks in his period without much effort. It also made him look cool to be able to do something without screwing up.   
Of course it may have helped if he'd had something to eat during lunch rather than talk and stare at Sara. He'd skipped two meals now and was running on empty. Todd's metabolism was not liking him, and presently neither were his sides.   
Groaning slightly at the cramps, Todd decided to slow down which allowed Matthews and his pal Bruce to catch up and pass him. Todd grumbled obscenities under his breath and much against his better judgement put on an extra burst of speed. His energy fizzled out halfway round the gym and he practically crawled the next lap.   
Coach Sanders clicked his tongue at him as he passed for the final one. "You're usually better than this. Haven't been eating properly, have you?"   
Todd grunted a negative, watching nearly everyone finish before him. Now it was down to him and Melvin Finkle, who was presently fumbling for his inhaler. Everyone else went to play basketball.   
Focusing on breathing through his nose and watching the coach to make sure he didn't notice Todd cutting corners, the boy failed to see the basketball until it slammed into his head and knocked him off balance into the metal equipment locker. Stars burst across his vision and sent him to his knees. Todd heard Finkle's triumphant wheezing as the gangly boy passed him to the finish point but could see nothing through a haze of red.   
"You... okay, Tolensky?" a familiar voice hesitantly inquired. Todd looked up blearily at Daniels who was hovering over him looking concerned and wary.   
"Nnngh?"   
"That ball hit you pretty hard. Not as hard as the cabinet though. Need a hand up, man?"   
"No, Daniels, s'cool. You threw the ball?" Todd slurred.   
"It was Graydon. Probably just an accident. Or not. They are jerks sometimes. I'm surprised you aren't bleeding."   
Todd gingerly felt his head. No wetness to be had. There was only a tender spot that ached when he touched it. "Yeah, I'm fine." He struggled to his feet, ignoring the hand Evan offered only halfway - as if fearing it would be bitten off.   
"Okay, man. Suit yourself."   
"Come on, boy, let's keep playing!" Matthews called.   
Evan scowled. "He calls me 'boy' again, he'll lose more teeth than game," he muttered and stalked back to the group. Coach Sanders, seeing what had happened, allowed Todd to sit on the bleachers for the rest of the period but made no move to talk to Graydon.   
Todd found himself nearly dozing off when the bell rang. Todd leaped down off the bleachers, wished he hadn't at the resulting dizzy spell, and sprinted to the nearest water fountain to splash his face and rehydrate.   
He had Art last, and it was an outdoor project to sketch anything they wanted. Todd clambered up one of the sheltering trees as soon as Mrs. Spindell's back was turned and spent the rest of the class filling his sketchbook with Sara doodles and eating as many moths and caterpillars as he could catch. 

Todd was seldom on time for anything in his life - but some things deserved the effort. After leaving a note on Lance's jeep that he would find his own way home, Todd took off.   
He was three minutes late for his meeting at the library before leaving the school and running in his present state did little to make up the distance. The librarian glared daggers at him as he ran up the stairs, just daring him to try that inside. Todd wisely decided to walk through the building at a normal rate. His eyes scanned the tables and found Sara, already with a pile of books and tapping her fingers to the soft music on the PA.(1)   
"Sorry, yo," he gasped, setting his bag down and dropping his sketchpad on the table. "Ain't no excuse for bein' late, but it always happens to me." He eyed the clock. "How late am I anyway?"   
Eight minutes. Aw damn. "Oh man, I'm **sorry**," he apologized again, dropping his gaze.

(1) I don't know if many libraries play music, but mine does. :P Usually it's Enya.

* * *

"From the looks of things, you couldn't help it," said Sara. "That's a nasty bruise you have there." She mirrored the mark, tracing invisible outlines against her own skin.   
Inter-person touching was a thing she never **quite** understood the sub- implications of, so she tended to avoid it. Sara followed the simple rule, _Touch as others touch you,_ and so far, no-one had.   
"I have something in my medkit for that kind of thing. Are you allergic to iodine? Oh. Was it accident or design?"   
"Hard to be sure," Todd grunted, unearthing a textbook from his own grungy bag. "Um. An' I ain't allergic to iodine." He knew that for certain, since either it or industrial-strength Dettol(1) were the panacea of the hour when it came to cuts and scrapes in the tenements. "Didn't know you could put that stuff on bruises."   
Sara bought out a box and withdrew a tube. "Not the liquid, no. This is a gel. Pharmacists' don't carry it any more. You have to order the stuff. Lucky for me I have connections." She measured out a dose on her fingertip. "Gramma runs the company. Shh..." She made to ministrate, then paused, having no idea of the boy's personal-space rules. "May I?"   
"Sure thing, yo. It ain't gonna sting or nuthin', right?"   
"No stinging, I assure you," she almost laughed. "Though there is a slight risk of cramping in some muscles. You'll look absolutely horrid by dinnertime, but by tomorrow, there'll just be faint yellowing." Gently, afraid that she'd somehow hurt him, she applied the gel. Smooth, gentle circles, working it in and around.   
"What happened to yo' hand?"   
He noticed. Someone actually noticed and cared what happened to her. A statistical blip, she was certain. Perhaps it was smalltalk. "Oh, Vlad was in a bad mood. Demanded a blood sacrifice even **after** I bribed him."   
"How in hell you bribe a **harp**?"   
"Do you," Sara absently corrected. "I've found that Vlad is partial to the odd mothball in the base of his support column. I suppose it keeps the insects away from him. Wants to live forever or something." She shrugged. "Billie-Jo's all appearances. She's just happy with that glittery wax you can get cheap at the discount music dives. Quite vain, really."   
"'Nother harp, right?"   
"My home-practice one," said Sara. "Mother's already said it's never leaving the music room - except to go into storage when guests are over, of course." Her eyelid fluttered and she quelled it. Mention of her mother had been doing that, lately. She changed the subject. "There. All greased over. Try not to touch or scratch until it's soaked in."   
"Sure you got it all?" he said, smiling. "Didn't miss no spots?"   
"Any spots. No. I was sure to be thorough."   
Todd muttered something that sounded remarkably like, "...damn."   
"Pardon?"   
"Oh. Um. I looked up some shi-uh... **stuff** on lizards an' reptiles. They only got one paragraph on chameleons in the whole chapter." He opened his book to show her, flipping the pages until he found the right zone.   
"Considering that book also includes dinosaurs, I'm impressed they found space to mention them at all," said Sara, speed-reading upside- down wasn't all that much more difficult than doing it right-way up. When one practiced. "Evolutionarily speaking, they should rate about one sentence for the entire book." She paused. "Is 'evolutionarily' a proper word?"   
"If it ain't yo' just made it one," said Todd. He flipped backwards for a second, checking the content. "Hey, you're pretty fast."   
"When one's mother demands one's attention at random moments," said Sara. "One learns to read fast or not at all." Flutter, flutter went the eye. Sara held it shut with her bandaged hand and read over the paragraph still between Todd's webbed fingers. "Dissapointing, isn't it? The most fascinating land-dweller on the planet, and it gets such a remarkably uninformative paragraph."

Todd boggled for the fifth time in as many minutes. _Okay. The chick can speed-read. She can speed-read upside-down. She plays the harp and names 'em. She buys total strangers lunch an' tries to heal them. An' she talks a **lot** like Big Blue(2), yo. What sort o' girl **is** she?_   
"Uh. Yeah," he said, reading it over again. He'd read it a billion times and knew that there was more to know about Chameleons other than that they had independant eyes and stretchy tongues... or that they changed colour according to their mood or the lighting. "Tell yo' th' truth... I don't usually hang here."   
"I should think not. Fatal habit," Sara smirked.   
_Wait. That was a joke?_ "I mean hang out," he blushed. "Um. Er. What'd you find?"   
"Someone's thesis that came here by mistake. Interesting for the exact makings of the colour cells. Several encyclopaedia in varying stages of out-of-date..." Sara opened one, and found a page with a hole in it. "Not to mention editing(3)..."   
"Aw man, that **sucks**," said Todd on automatic. "Don't people **think**?"   
"I've seen worse. **Some** rip out the entire page."   
Todd winced. Not that he was particularly **fond** of reference books, but he'd needed them enough to appreciate them being both availlable and whole. "I know th' logic," he confessed. "It ain't theirs, so they don't care. It's just like rippin' a page outta th' phone book. Fo' one number. Jerks."   
"It gets worse. The library's forbidden to replace, repair or investigate until twenty percent of the book is **gone**. Disgusting." She put aside that one and opened another. "More of the same. Native to Africa and Madagascar. Eats insects. And the rest is out of date."   
Todd picked up a slim volume on the care and feeding of chameleons. "Says they like bein' warm," he suggested.   
"Doesn't everybody?" said Sara. "I've always been something of a heat- hog, myself, but that's hardly any indicator of cold blood, is it?"   
"That's what **I** keep tellin' everyone," Todd ranted. "Just 'cause I got trouble keepin' warm don't mean I need a hot rock or nuthin'. I just got core temperature problems, yo."   
"Doesn't," corrected Sara.   
"'Course, it'd help if we had **heat**, but that's another story..."   
"Furnace on the blink?"   
"Um." Todd remembered Fred's trouble taking her money. There was a subtle temptation to take her for everything she could give. On the other hand, his moral compas was pointing due Girl Here, so his usual instincts were a little muddled. "I don' like t' say, y'know?"   
"You share a domicile with Freddy, don't you?" she said. She was checking her facts.   
"Yyyyyyyyyeeeeaaahhh...?" Now his compass was wavering between Girl Here and Jealousy.   
"**Ah**. Monetary trouble's cut off the heat. I can fix that."   
"You what?"   
Her smile lit up her face. Even when it was an evil one. "I have no qualms against playing Robin Hood. Care to join?" She gestured towards the school PC's and their internet access.   
Todd's lower brain was thinking, _Hm. Tight, cozy little cubicle. We could - y'know - bump up against her an' get **snuggly**..._ It waggled its eyebrows at him suggestively.   
The fact that his lower brain even **had** eyebrows to waggle was so disturbing that he let it pass him right by. "Sure, yo. Show me yo' stuff."   
Sara almost leaped over. Her lanky frame made for some pretty long strides.   
Todd leaped into a chair next to her as she loaded up the Bayville Herald. "What's that fo'?"   
"Seeing who's taken the largest, most unnecessary pay rise this week..."   
_Day-umn, yo! She wasn't **kidding**._ He grinned. This was going to be fun to watch.

(1) Brand-name antiseptic stuff that smells heavily of pine and stings worse than blue fury. And yes, it is available in the States.   
(2) Aka Beast, aka Hank McCoy.   
(3) People in my Primary School used to do this. The fact that someone did it in **High** School speaks of someone of very low intellect.

* * *

Sara scrolled through the Business columns with one hand on the mouse and the other writing down figures on scratch paper without pausing to look at it. The last number she wrote produced an "Aha!" of triumph.   
"I don't know who Mr. Bolivar Trask is, but he's about to pay some community service taxes."   
Todd peered at the information. "Day-amn. That's a lot of zeroes. What does he **do**?"   
"Who knows," Sara shrugged. "The other cash source would have been Xavier, but you told me to go there if I needed help. I don't think that would have set up a good impression, even if he'd never find out it was me."   
"Oh, he'd find out. Telepath," Todd informed. Sara shuddered.   
"Yeesh. You would have stopped me, right?"   
"Of course, yo."   
"Then it's settled. Trask shall now cover your bills at the wave of my magic wand." Sara waved no wand, but instead she swiveled the mouse on the pad with a flourish, clicked twice and began to type furiously.   
What happened next was a dazzling array of windows, commands and random small beeping noises(1) that made Todd's eyes hurt if he tried to follow along.   
He reached up to rub his eyes, lowered his hand and the screen was blank once more, save for one window. Sara was now scrolling down the billing index for electricity and gas. "Who would it be under?"   
"Alvers, yo. Lance Alvers. He's the oldest."   
"How old **is** he exactly?"   
"Eighteen."   
"Yikes. So the rumors that he's old enough to go to college and held back...?"   
"True as Trish's implants."   
Sara looked at him oddly. Todd wanted to slap himself. Then something surprising happened. Sara giggled.   
Sara immediately blushed at the sound. _You laugh too much,_ her mother's voice snapped. _You sound like a cross between a chipmunk and a pig._   
Her eye twitched yet again, but the giggles continued for a bit longer. "Sorry," she apologized simultaneously with Todd.   
"I didn't mean to say that. Sorta slipped out," the boy mumbled, unsure whether she'd been laughing at him or at his joke. "Don't tell anyone?" The last thing he needed was Trish's posse of boytoys to smack him down for that remark.   
"Don't worry. My lips are sealed," Sara promised and turned back to the computer.   
"You won't get caught, will you?" Todd whispered.   
"No. I'm telnetting - they'll never know it was me."   
"Brilliant, yo," Todd told her. He had little enough idea of how and what she was doing, but he knew it was a good sixty miles above what he could do on his Frankenstein PC.(2) That and he just wanted to compliment her.   
Her blushing was adorable.   
"There," Sara said proudly, closing the window as soon as the transfer of funds to the Brotherhood billing account was complete. "Anything else you need paying for?"   
Todd looked a bit embarrassed. "Eh... well, there's water. And Tabby's got phone bill this time. Which means it'll never get paid."   
Sara felt a small twinge of something like jealousy. "Who's Tabby?"   
"Oh, some chick who lives with us whenever we have money. She's away visiting her mother. Made the trip as soon as the lights went out and her turn for paying her keep came up."   
"So, why don't you read her an ultimatum? Pay up or get out?" _Like you're one to talk, Sara. You couldn't tell a dog to 'sit' without feeling guilty._ Thus teased her inner consciousness.   
_Shut **UP**._ She told it.   
"Tabby's got a way with bombs," Todd muttered, rubbing at yet another phantom pain. This one happened to be on his tush. "They really **really** sting, yo."   
"Sounds like you four need some sort of organized protest. I couldn't tell anyone off if my life **depended** on it, but well... you..."   
Todd smiled, not offended. "I don't seem to have trouble with it?"   
Sara blushed again.   
"S'okay. I don't like bein' disrespected an' if the person's easy to deal with when riled, I got no trouble with lettin' 'em know where I stand. But... well..." Todd fidgeted. "One, Tabby's a **girl**. As in, she could cry rape whenever she **wanted**, and get us some seriously unwelcome attention. Most of us are runaways and tryin' to stick together with as little notice as possible. Even if they **didn't** find Pietro or Lance's DNA on her, we'd still be split up. Two, she's two- **faced**. Anyway you try to break it to her that she's a free-loader, she'll act like she's completely rational an' understanding, and then one of us will wake up in the morning with hair shaved off or scorch marks or a completely **trashed** room. You do not mess with Tabby. Messing with **Lance** is more sane."   
"She sounds like fun," Sara murmured, bringing up the water bill.   
There was a bit of a silence, broken only by the constant patter of keyboarding fingers.   
"Sara?" Todd fidgeted.   
"Yes, dear?"   
"Um... Thank you. This really means a lot to me - I mean, us. Well, me too, if ya know what I mean." Okay, when **Sara** blushed, she was cute. Todd could feel his ears going red and believed himself to resemble a squashed turnip. "There uh... anything I can do for you? Really. Name it and it's done."   
His voice was soft, a shyer quality than Sara had heard all day. He was serious. She looked over at him and his eyes mirrored the seriousness of his tone. They were very pretty... his eyes...

(1) Thank you Nutter! And sorry it took so long.   
(2) From Nutter's fic about Kurt joining the Brotherhood... forget what it's called. Todd has this PC that he built from scraps of computers he found in the junkyard. Just thought I'd reference to it because I love the idea.

* * *

Sara fought the blush, she really did, but the rallying forces of natural rouge combined with unnaturally pale skin and threatened to take over most of her face, her ears, and at least half of what could charitably be called her chest.   
"Uhm..." she managed, sounding highly intelligent. "It wasn't anything special," she babbled. "Anyone could do it. All one needs is a reasonable computer, internet access and a working knowledge of electronic security systems... It's nothing much."   
"**I** thought it was awesome," said Todd.   
"You're being kind," she murmured. "And -um- if you insist on some kind of deed-for-deed repayment... well... I'm sure I'll make a pest of myself in the fullness of time. You know. Irrelevant little questions..." She tore off a couple of post-it notes, and wrote a series of contacts on them. "Perhaps we could stay in touch?"   
Todd looked startled. "Yo' givin' me yo' **number**?"   
"I won't abuse the privalege of having yours," she assured. "If you choose to give it, of course. That's my home number, a direct line to my room. That's my cellular, my email and my varying IM contacts. I finally got everything down with one central manager. Something **less** of a pest, but only just. Oh, and my homepage if you feel like browsing by. I have a bulletin board."   
"Yo, that's what I call **online**."   
"I have trouble sleeping, so I keep running out of things to do." She shrugged. "Chatting online can help, but only for so long." Then she blushed anew, remembering why they were there. "I suppose we'd better get back to the books. We might find something of use..."   
Todd pocketed her contact info and grabbed the spare post-it note. His presence online was as a lurker. Sure, he had an account on Deviantart, but since he posted indy work, nobody commented. All he had was that, his AIM contact, and the number for the boarding-house. Pretty slim pickings compared to Sara's haul.   
Sara found it embaressing because she was online far more often than she technically should be. And she lied in order to do it.   
_Lying to your mother,_ said her Inner Mom. _If only she knew, she'd give you the hell you deserve, you ungrateful brat..._   
Her eye fluttered again, spreading out into a facial tic.   
"You sure yo' awright?"   
"I'll be fine in a minute," she said, focussing on boxing the bad emotions away.

Todd watched her face change with alarm. One minute, she looked supremely disturbed about something... the next, she was as cold and emotionless as carved marble. Then she was back.   
Her face was much better when she was at home in it.   
They spent a cosy few minutes - subjectively speaking, since the clock whizzed through half an hour - exchanging laughable facts, before the librarian turfed them out.   
"Oh my," breathed Sara. "Sunset already."   
"It's pretty, isn't it?" he blurted. His stomach rumbled at him and he prayed she didn't hear.   
"Majestic," said Sara. "If you want a snack, I know this delightful all-you-can-eat place. It's a little more -er- international than what you might be used to. I'm only thinking of it because it's the only place that serves bamboo worms..." She stopped. "Am I babbling?"   
"Not even close," he soothed. "What's this about worms?"   
"Bamboo worms. They're a delicacy in Hunan. Dad was up there years and years ago and I got a taste for the cuisine. They do western food, too, if you have a thing against edible insects."   
"Yo, no **problems**, sugarlips," he said. Er. Should I have said the last thing out loud? "I eat bugs alla time."   
"Oh yes. Of course. The -ah- relationship with amphibians."   
"Toads, yo. You can say it. I'm coo'."   
"Really? I thought your physique was more froggish, myself."   
"Meh. But who's afraid o' frogs, yo?"   
Sara measured her pace to match his. "Do we **have** to make people afraid of us?"   
He shrugged. "Momma always said, if yo' can't get their respect, fear'd do just fine."   
Sara gestured towards the parking lot. "Perhaps, but people rarely destroy what they respect."   
The only vehicle left, besides some staff cars, was a degraded-looking thing that, because it had two wheels, had to be a bike. Todd tried to be polite about it. "I'm guessin' this is th' famous Eileen." _What happened to it? Fred sit on it?_   
Sara knelt to undo the lock. "That's her. I only keep up this much security to stop people towing her as scrap. My compromise with mother--" flutter, flutter, went her eyelid, "--involved finding, purchasing, and maintaining my own vehicle so long as I did it wholly of myself. The minute we agreed, she cut me off without warning and locked all the house 'phones. I was temporarily destitute."   
Hm. Nice woman. Todd thought she was past due some of that 'karmic realignment' that Sara billed Trask for. But how to teach her a lesson without hurting Sara? A problem for another day. "Hey, it's coo'. Got me a PC a lot like it. You know. F-O-R-D..."   
"Found on rubbish dump, oh yes," Sara giggled. She freed her heap and put away the cable. "I should have asked, are you okay for meals? You barely touched lunch and you're looking awful peekid."   
"Naw, I'm always this colour," he grinned. "I'm fine. Honest."   
Sara offered him a choice of helmets. The dorky-looking purple one, or the bubble with little daisies on it.

* * *


	6. 6

  
Todd made Sara laugh by closing his eyes and choosing at random. He got the one with the daisies. Oh well, he was in a good enough mood to feel like silly if it meant she laughed. It was nice too... not to be on guard for once.   
Eileen started up like a sputtering old woman who'd been woken against her will.   
"Easy, girl, be good for me." Sara's voice was a little tense. "We have company today."   
The sputtering relaxed into a gentler thrumming that sounded almost like a purr. "Wow," Sara grinned. "She **likes** you."   
"Heh. Machines and I kinda get along... better than people most of the time."   
Eileen took off at a slow pace, but with a lurch that made Todd bump in close to Sara. "Meep!"   
Sara looked behind her. "Are you okay?"   
"Yes, I'm just... I'm sorry. Contact like that usually gets me smacked, you know?"   
"I would never," Sara protested, in a mock offended tone. Todd grinned at her sheepishly and his helment slipped down over his eyes. Sara burst into giggles yet again, wondering what was making her feel so giddy today. 

"Mmm... you should try the buttered grubs." Sara offered him a taste from her chopsticks.   
"Wow... I didn't use to be much of a worm person. But these are **good** yo. Wait 'til I tell the others they got a bug cuisine in Bayville."   
"Think they'll try it out someday?" Sara asked, popping a carmel cricket into her mouth. She'd skipped ahead to the desert bar to secure a share of them for both her and Todd. Those treats always went unbelievably fast.   
"Well, Fred might. He needs a lot of food and likes something new once in a while. You can get him to try most anything, yo."   
"What happens... exactly... if he doesn't get enough food?" Sara was already hypothesizing, but mutant powers were a new field of research.   
Todd paused for thought, an almost guilty expression crossing his face as he stirred his chopsticks in the bamboo worms. "He can't move. Takes a lot of muscle to carry around that weight. No food means that his muscles start shrinking and..." He trailed off squeamishly and Sara could guess the rest from there.   
"Any others in such danger?"   
"Pietro. Same thing'll happen to him, but at a much faster rate. For a guy who normally takes thirty seven sugars in his coffee(1), no food for a **day** is dangerous. He gets cranky as shi - er, you know."   
"And what will happen to - hold that thought." Sara ground her back into her chair, turning red with embarrassment at her display.   
"Oh, about that," Todd started. "If you start losing a lot of dry skin... like **strips** of it... don't be alarmed. It's natural. Scared the hell out of me at first, so I want you to know you're okay."   
Sara looked at him. "I'm going to get new **skin**?"   
Todd nodded.   
"What's it going to **look** like? Will it still look like me? Will I turn green?" _Mother is going to have a **fit**._   
"No, no," he soothed, "I don't think that'll happen. And if it does, there's stuff you can do. You could wear an inducer like fuzz - like Kurt." _Even if I gotta steal that thing offa him, maybe I can make a copy..._ Todd didn't want Sara to feel like she **had** to go to Xavier if an inducer became necessary. She'd be better off though... maybe...   
_Steeringawayfromthatsubjectnow._   
"Or foundation. **Lots** of foundation."   
_Great, makeup._ Sara thought bleakly. _Mother will find that hysterical._

(1) Humming-bird metabolism means that sugar is a must-have.

* * *

Todd knew what that bandaged hand over her eye meant, now. "Lemme guess. Yo' mom ain't that fond of makeup."   
"She's not fond of makeup on me. A sow in mascara is still a sow." She bit the head off a bug with a savage snap. "I mean, it was all fun and games until I turned five, and when the prizes dried up, it was all over."   
"Um..." said Todd. He ate an unidentified vegetable so he didn't have to comment.   
"Sorry," said Sara. "Old scars. I really shouldn't be showing them to you."   
Todd gave her a classic, _Who? Me?_ look. "I just didn't wanna say nuthin'. Y'know. It's yo' bidness'n'all."   
"Old, old news," Sara dismissed. "Dried up and mummified. You'd never believe I used to be cute."   
"I believe yo' **still** cute."   
"...oh, stop it," she muttered. "I'm no prizewinner."   
"Only to the people who don't matter," he found himself blurting. "Yo' pretty when you smile."   
She blushed and ducked, obscuring her smile from him with her hair. "...stop it..."   
He knew she was flattered. But he also sensed that she was one of those unfortunates who were so worn away by criticism that they didn't know what to do with a compliment. "Awright, awright. I'll shuddup. But **you** gotta say 'thank you' when I say somepin' nice about yo'. Deal?"   
"I'll try."   
"Coo'," he grinned. Thinking of a compliment she could take. "Yo' very graceful, y'know. Precise."   
"I have scars that would argue with--"   
"Aa-aah?"   
Sara blushed. "...thank you."   
"There. Did that hurt?"   
A deeper blush. A prettier smile. "...not really, I guess."

Todd came home late. Lance knew because he was waiting for him.   
"And just where the hell have you been?"   
Todd made three seperate goes to wipe the goofy grin off his face. "Out," he finally admitted.   
"Well, **duh**," said Lance. "Out where? Did Dunc rough you up or something?" _Translation: Did you do something to **make** Dunc rough you up?_   
"Nope." The goofy grin, never far away, came back in full force. "I was out in **enjoyable** company, dawg."   
Suddenly, Lance had no real desire to know, but he had to ask. Ever since Mystique left them to cope on their own, he was the responsible one. Him. Lance the rebel. Responsible. "You and a **girl**?"   
The grin raised to a power of ten. "Her name's Sara... She plays Robin Hood and the harp and I think she likes me."   
"Toad, you think girls who break your cheekbones like you."   
"She bought me dinner."   
Blink. "Okay. She might like you." He blinked again. "Now I'm trying to picture the kind of girl who'd find **you** desirable..."   
"Shut it, yo. I'm'a takin' a **bath**."   
Lance blinked a third time. "But it isn't that time of the month(1)..."

"And what sort of hour do you call **this**, young lady - **AND** I use that term **loosely**, given the company you keep."   
"I was out studying," said Sara. "With a new friend."   
"Does anyone **I** know know this so-called 'friend' of yours? Or is it another useless little layabout like That Girl--" aka Janine, "--or that blimp of a boy who came over and ate out half the pantry."   
"Nobody you know, Mom," said Sara, barely quelling the twitch. "Can I put my things away, please?"   
"Don't you even **think** of walking out of this room, missy! I tried everything I **could** to get you a decent education and how do you thank me? You get **expelled** from every single school of any merit! With test results so poor that you have to sit with the **bottom feeders**. It's no wonder you've never met anyone of any **worth**! Just you wait until your **father** gets home!"   
_Hm. November twelfth, just in time to heal all rifts before my birthday and Christmas. Still too long away._   
"He's going to put his foot down **this** time, hearing about how you carry on! Lusting after your teachers! Going out until all hours with strange boys! They're only after one thing - and God knows, they could get it from **you** easily. One compliment and they could ruin your life! AND STOP THAT TWITCHING THIS INSTANT!"   
"...I'm trying, Mom..."   
"All you ever **were** was trying! From the moment you were **born**, you were trying! You never did a single thing for me! Never! I work and I slaved to get you ahead in society and what thanks do I get? Nothing!"   
The twitch spread across her face, trembled down her arms, and made tears slide loose.   
"Look at you! A spastic(2) wreck! Is it any wonder nobody wants to look at you? Is it any wonder that you're a shame to my family? To my **mother**? To my sisters and brothers who **all** have better children than **you** to their name... What did I **do** to get such a **curse** for a daughter?"   
Sara whimpered. Both hands were ineffectually flailing at invisible attacking phantoms. She ducked and winced and wept. She trembled and shivered.   
"I could have had a **beautiful** daughter. A nice intelligent girl like Jean Grey! Jean **Grey** doesn't twitch like she's been hit with lightning! Jean Grey **wins** things to grace her mothers' shelves! Jean Grey does **GOOD** in this world! What do you do? You twitch and you cry that you're **trying**! Well, you can stop being such a trial to **ME**!"   
Sara couldn't manage anything but an incohate garble.   
"Ray? **Ray**! Come here and mop this excuse for a daughter of mine **UP**!"   
Their butler escorted her into the big kitchen, the one they used when they held large parties. Ray sat her on the bench and helped her escape her backpack. He made hot chocolate with a marshmallow and cream, then carefully tended, treated, and re-wrapped her wounds.   
He let her cry it out.   
"There, now, ma'am... The master will be home soon enough. He'll set things straight. You'll see."   
Sara could only nod.

(1) I couldn't resist.   
(2) Yes, I know it's a hate-word. It works in context.

* * *

Todd dried himself off and slid on a pair of dark sweatpants and a sleeveless tank. Teeth chattering from his cold shower(1), the boy wrapped the towel around his shoulders and started to work on his dripping hair. He was going to get in trouble tonight if he wasn't completely dry before he went to sleep. The house was colder at night and the insulation around Todd's window had fallen away with time.   
Still rubbing at his head with the towel, Todd opened the bathroom door to bang his forehead on the chin of a very surprised speedster. "Whoa! That time of month already? Please remember to vacuum **everywhere** this time."(2)   
"Ha ha. So amusing." Todd squeezed past him. His skin shedding wasn't due for another... Todd checked the calendar upon entering his room. Five days. Oh joy. That meant the itching would start in three.   
He plopped himself in his chair, forgetting that it was an old thing that didn't **like** to be plopped in and reminded him of this by squealing indignantly beneath him. "Ack! Okay, not doing that again..." he promised, planting his feet on the ground for support. Mollified, the chair didn't break.   
Todd flicked on his computer and winced at the loud thrum and static. "Please," he prayed to it, "No death screen this time?"   
Frankie(3) started up the disk-scan for errors program and Todd sighed in relief. That usually meant everything was okay and that Frankie had recovered from when Todd had to turn it off manually last time.   
He connected to red shi(f)t and waited for AIM to load while checking his Deviant account. Yep. No new comments, but a load of deviations from members on his watchlist and hot topics. He'd have to view and clean that out later. From his jean pocket he rescued the square of paper Sara had given him with her information on it. He added her screenname to his friends list and waited hopefully to see if she had logged in yet.   
She hadn't. Todd kept the list up and opened a paint program - Photoshop 5.5 which he'd ripped with a serial number from an online site. Randomly he began to draw with the mouse, experimenting with tools. He preferred pen and paper, but the scanners at school were ancient pieces of dung. He usually didn't bother, unless he had something he considered worth the wait.   
In no time, his AIM list dinged at him and he checked to see who'd come up. Big Blue still had the away message...   
Todd grinned at Sara's online persona and clicked on it. He typed a message and hit enter.   
FrogPrince: 'Ey, what's up sunshine?   
"Meep. Yo, I gotta remember to chill with the petnames," Todd muttered to himself. He started typing again.   
FrogPrince: Sorry if that's outta line... :/   
Todd deleted that rather than hitting enter. "Maybe I'll just wait until she actually **yells** at me b'fore I apologize."

---------

(1). No heat means no hot water. **shivers** But I don't think Todd's the type for taking long hot showers anyway.   
(2). He tends to lose small bits of skin the first day of his shedding cycle and they get **everywhere**. By the third day, the bits are larger and easier to pick up and throw away.   
(3). Short for 'Frankenstein'. Todd's monster PC needed a cute name.

* * *

Sara's teeth were still chattering as she logged on. Ah, dedicated lines. Bliss. Maybe this year, Daddy would get her that T1 she'd been dreaming of.   
Maybe.   
In a few moments, she was online and typing in Todd's deviant address.   
Boonk!   
Sara clicked on the flashing notice.

FrogPrince: 'Ey, what's up sunshine?

Sara grinned. Sunshine. Cute.

TheTallest: My hair? ;) JK. Got ritual chew-out from Mommy dearest. Checking Ur art now...

She peeked.

The Tallest: Oh **wow**. U know, w correct BS, I could get U gallery showing. Ur textures R delish.

Sara blushed. She was always more forward online, when there was a screen between herself and the people she spoke to. The itch invaded her bubble and, muchly vexed, she tromped into her bathroom to slather vitamin E cream on the bubbling flesh of her back.   
She dashed back to the PC.

TheTallest: Um. Something weird is happening to my back. Got nasty red weals, blisters & sores.

Ugh. Now **that** was romantic. Not.

* * *


	7. 7

  
TheTallest: My hair? ;) JK. Got ritual chew-out from Mommy dearest. Checking Ur art now... 

Todd winced. He really was going to have to teach that girl's mother a thing or two. Maybe he could ask Pietro for advice.

The Tallest: Oh **wow**. U know, w correct BS, I could get U gallery showing. Ur textures R delish.

The boy blinked. He'd been expecting a 'That's cool' at best or an 'Ummm, what is it supposed to mean?' at the very worst. Not somethin' about a freakin' **gallery**. He wasn't that good...

FrogPrince: U are way 2 nice. ;; I'm an amateur. Thanks tho.

Todd gently swiveled his chair to reach for the blanket on his bed. He was getting cold. The treetops outside of his window were blowing. Great, a storm. He could hear the loose tiles on the roof rattling like dry bones.   
Sara was being quiet. Todd waited patiently. Sometimes Big Blue went quiet without warning and Todd had never minded. Comfortable silences were a good thing in his book. This was kind of different, though... Todd was beginning to worry that he'd offended her or something when the window alerted him to a new message.

TheTallest: Um. Something weird is happening to my back. Got nasty red weals, blisters & sores.

Todd winced.

FrogPrince: Oh crap... did u put somethin on it?   
The Tallest: Some lotion... doesn't help a whole lot.

Big Blue's away message disappeared indicating that he was back. Todd pounced on his name immediately.

FrogPrince: hey, blue, i gotta problem. maybe serious. can u help?   
Big Blue: What seems 2 be the problem?   
FrogPrince: friend of mine is also gifted. Any1 besides you?   
Big Blue: All is clear. I am the only one in the room. how gifted exactly?

Big Blue was also a mutant as he'd told Todd online in what had been one hell of a rough but rewarding conversation. Knowing only he was a doctor who's opinion on mutants was a friendly one, Todd had taken the plunge to ask for advice when 'Tro had collapsed from lack of sleep. They had thought he was dying, but Blue had assured him - given the specs of the unconscious boy's power - that Todd's friend was merely in torpor(1) and would wake up in a few hours.   
Todd had his suspicions who Big Blue was, and he was sure Big Blue had already guessed who he was, but neither mentioned it.(2)

FrogPrince: beautiful, witty, and she can change her skin 2 match the walls.   
BigBlue: my, that's pretty gifted.   
FrogPrince: i'm talking 2 much. her skin is all bubbling and blistered and stuff. was itching earlier, kinda like i do once a month.

Another window beeped at him. Todd brought it up and started typing even before he'd finished reading Sara's message.

The Tallest: hello? did I scare u off?   
FrogPrince: no, sweetums, i'm looking something up for u.   
The Tallest: don't have 2.

BigBlue: so she's an amphibious type? like a chameleon? hmm. might be scales.   
FrogPrince:... . oO!!!   
BigBlue: did i alarm u? **poke**   
FrogPrince: scales, huh? so what can she do about it?   
BigBlue: let them grow out like nature intended?   
FrogPrince: okay... anything else? she's in pain! ;;   
BigBlue: Calm thyself, Romeo. Lotion should do the trick, preferably calamine. Other than that, lots of water to drink. will probably be thirsty like u.   
FrogPrince: thanx

FrogPrince: Yo Sara, u okay? drink lots of water and use calamine lotion. that's what the good doc says.   
The Tallest: Who?!   
FrogPrince: long story, but he's safe, i swear!

(1) Hummingbirds are known to go into something called 'torpor' at night - a deathlike sleep to make up for a day's fast work. I think Pietro would go through this if he didn't have enough energy and rest, but I doubt he'd do it every night considering how much sugar he eats to give him energy. The others naturally freaked when he went down like a sack of potatoes in the middle of a sentence.   
(2) Completely and shamelessly nicked from -Fein!-

* * *

"Good thing I'm not allergic to calamine," Sara muttered. A quick visit to the medicine cabinet and, after locking her door, she was typing one-handed and patting pink sludge onto her back.

TheTallest: As long as Dr. doesn't come w blue police call box, I'm happy.   
FrogPrince: Um. What?   
TheTallest: Sorry. PBS joke.   
FrogPrince: OH! Dr Who. I get it.   
TheTallest: Surpriste! No offence, but most don't get NE refs.   
FrogPrince: Got roomie who watches TV. Lots of TV. Seen a few eps.

There was a pause.

FrogPrince: What's with those pepper-shaker things?

Sara laughed.   
"Are you playing around on that internet again?" Mom called.   
"Just doing some research, Mom!" Sara shouted back. She had a few windows on project topics open for a quick AltTab to pretended innocence. Not that Mom often wanted to struggle past Sara's bookshelves to get a glimpse of Vincent's(1) screen anyway.   
She resumed her chatting.

TheTallest: They're called "Daleks", dear. They're actually cyborgs of a sort from the planet Skaro. Inside those pepper-shakers is a globby, ugly mass of mutated flesh.   
FrogPrince: Yummy (/sarcasm)   
TheTallest: Oh aye, they're dead sexay.   
TheTallest: Please forgive **that** mental image.   
FrogPrince: Too late, yo. Just pictured mutant blob in bed w drumstick and Sarah Jane Smith.   
FrogPrince: Eeeeeeeeeeewwwww...

Sara couldn't help laughing, but she tried to keep it under her breath.

TheTallest: ROFLMAOAPIMP! That's just **too** funny. Race U to conceptualize.   
FrogPrince: RU kiddin? That's **sick**!

Drat. She'd offended.

TheTallest: Sorry, dear. Sometimes, sick things strike me as funny. I'll bin it if U think its bad.

There was a long silence. Sara winced as she patted calamine over her welty flesh. Maybe she'd scared him off.   
While she waited, she storylined her site's featured animation. Once she had enough money to pay for another month of being homepaged, she'd take off the teasers and let the people see the whole episode.   
This month's feature would show a certain overtall and androgynous character turning slowly into Godzilla.

TheTallest: M going 4 hot chocolate. If Ure gone by the time I'm back, I'll understand. Shall stick to technical questions in future.

Sara thought for another minute.

TheTallest: I meant it about the gallery. U R talented.

She crossed her fingers and went to the nearest kitchen for a cuppa. It was past ten already. A good thing, since Mom hated the idea of the help seeing Sara in her underduds and calamine. Sara made a big mug and watched the storm whip about outside. Perfect atmosphere for her projected animation.

(1) Most first computers are named "the Beast". Sara just took it one step further. And yes, one of her PC guardians is a dolly modelled on the character played by Ron Perlman.

* * *

"FuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK!" came grumbling down the hall, accompanied by the sound of running water.   
"Hold still, Todd. Second to last one." Lance pulled the bloodied shard of glass out of the younger boy's inner arm.(1)   
Fred stepped out of Todd's room with a tray full of glass and wooden splinters. "I knew we shoulda cut that branch back earlier."   
Watching Todd rinse off his arm, Lance sighed. "Well, no use crying over it now. You'll have to sleep downstairs tonight, Todd."   
"Man, but it's cold down there too!"   
"It's better than a room with a busted window."   
"True. I gotta see about Sara, though." Todd struggled one-handed to tie off the gauze until Lance helped him.   
"Stuffed animal?" the older teen smirked.   
"No!" snapped the now red-faced amphibian. "My **girl**, yo. She's probably worried about me!" Todd made a show of puffing out his chest and hopped down the hall to his room. The window had been covered with tarp, but Todd's room was still more or less a vacuum. The door slammed behind him, startling a squeak out of the boy.   
"Sorry!" he called unhelpfully toward Pietro's room where the speedster had retired earlier with another headache.   
Todd sat down at his computer, opened Sara's window and scrolled up to see what he'd missed.   
"Aw, shit yo..." Hurriedly he typed an explanation.

FrogPrince: Yo, I'm back! Sorry for my silence, but it's nuts here. Window got busted by a branch an' the storm and I got the cuts on my arm to prove it.   
FrogPrince: Yo, you forgive? Still there sweetie?

_Please still be there? Please?_ He didn't know how long it had been since she'd gone for chocolate. He didn't get an away message, so perhaps he still had a chance.

(1) They aren't that deep. Don't worry.

* * *

Sara chugged her third cuppa and panted for breath. _Damn. He wasn't kidding about being thirsty..._ She made a mental note to ask the good doctor about hydration per bodyweight while she mixed up some hot chocolate in her undertow mug(1).   
It was half-empty by the time she got back to her room. And so was the economy-sized bottle of calamine lotion.   
Todd was back.

TheTallest: Cuts? U sure Ure OK?   
FrogPrince: Yeah, they're pretty shallow. Just bled everywhere.   
TheTallest: U **did** vacuum the area, yes? Nothing worse than finding glass bits with tender portions.

Todd read that and boggled. The lighter portions of his crap were blown all over the boardinghouse and the heavier stuff was vacuum- proof... but all the same, the concept of cleaning his room alarmed him.   
Then he thought about getting glass in his itchy, sensitive skin, and decided that cleaning wouldn't be **that** bad under the circumstances.

FrogPrince: Good thought, yo' Be five minutes.

Sara chuckled. Men.

TheTallest: Be sure to get everywhere you'd place yourself.   
TheTallest: On the subject of dehydration, just **HOW** thirsty do you get? Usually my undertow mug lasts me some good hours. This time I'm down to a quarter left in under fifteen minutes.

She leaned back and sipped, imagining a bachelor's vacuuming job. He'd probably go over the bed and the path to his clothes and the computer and the door, forgetting the rest in his haste.

FrogPrince: Yes, Mom   
FrogPrince: Um. Undertow mug?   
TheTallest: It has such a large capacity that you have to watch out for the undertow.

Todd laughed out loud, his fingers already moving across the keys.

FrogPrince: LOL! I gotta get me one of them.   
TheTallest: Hm. When's your B-day?

(1) PVP cartoon. www(dot)pvponline(dot)com(slash)archive(dot)php3?archive20010718

* * *


	8. 8

  
FrogPrince: august 30. brb. 

Todd turned from his computer and tread carefully to the door. He went to the hall closet to pull out the 'free sample' that the Brotherhood had liberated from the vacuum salesman with the misfortune of being assigned to the territory.   
Pietro hazarded a peek at the unheard-of sounds of a Hoover coming from the room next to his. His eyes bugged at the sight of Todd behind the handle. The boy was grimacing as if it was sucking up a piece of his very soul along with every dustbunny. Every so often the crackle of glass and random small objects would sound off. Todd went over every place he could think of which was remarkably close to Sara's prediction.   
Seeing that not very much dirt was traumatized out of place by Todd's cleaning, Pietro got bored with the miracle and went back to lying down.

FrogPrince: Done! **pant**   
FrogPrince: you were asking how much I drink when I'm shedding?   
FrogPrince: those are some high numbers. Probly about a Gut Bomb supersize cup every hour. I gotta take a bottle to school and fill up in the sink when I can. I'd turn to dust by the time that water fountain pumped out half of what I needed.   
The Tallest: Considering that half the fountains at school are either leaky faucets or hoses.   
The Tallest: So I should bring water and water holder. Check. What do I do with the um... stuff. That comes off?

Todd bit his lip.

FrogPrince: Usually the shedding happens in a set of three to five days. One day, usually in the middle, is when the biggest pieces start comin' off. That you wanna stay home for and generally avoid public. That's when the **face** starts peelin'. The days before and after are for smaller pieces and pieces that generally take longer because they're not stretched as much.

There was a pause in which Todd hoped he hadn't completely disgusted her. He hadn't even really told her about the doctor's theory of scales yet.

* * *

Sara had refilled her giant cup with water and slugged a generous gulp down before replying.

TheTallest: Sounds like all the fun of menstruation without any of the social acceptance.   
TheTallest: Though skin peelage shouldn't involve cramping... right?   
FrogPrince: (blush) Er... wouldn't know. Honest. I ain't never got no cramps, yo. But I never got skin that changes.   
TheTallest: Sorry about that. The whole five days thing got me cross- connected. Shan't elaborate.   
TheTallest: Grammar!Nit - "haven't ever", dear.   
FrogPrince: Yo, grammar ain't my style.   
TheTallest: Had mine beaten into me. Much fun. Not.

* * *

Todd stared at the words on the screen.

FrogPrince: Uh. You don't mean **literally** do you?   
TheTallest: No, thank the Gods above and below... Harshest punishment was writing the rules longhand as lines. For **hours**.   
TheTallest: Being bored is the biggest plague ever. Was much encouraged to learn well and learn fast.   
FrogPrince: That gale outside is me sighin' with relief, yo.

Sara giggled, sipping water. She opened up a side-window and sought out the place that sold her undertow mug.

TheTallest: LOL. You're cute when you worry so.

"I'm **cute**?" Todd boggled.

TheTallest: But I'm hardly worth the fuss. I don't actually **do** anything merit-worthy.   
FrogPrince: You're Fred's study-buddy right?   
FrogPrince: Don't that mean you helped him **pass**?   
TheTallest: "Doesn't"   
TheTallest: True. But one hardly gains awards for helping people pass.   
FrogPrince: Awards, schmawards. You did a good thing. Be proud.

"Not in my nature, alas," said Sara. She alternated between chatting and clicking in an order for an appropriately froggy undertow mug for Todd.

TheTallest: Sorry, I'm pathalogically incapable (g)   
TheTallest: Ugh. I think I'm sweating under the old skin. Ew. I feel all - squishy.   
FrogPrince: It's cool. Don't pop 'em. Let it ride. U should start some small peeling 2morrow.   
TheTallest: O joy unbounded (/sarcasm)   
FrogPrince: Know the feeling 2 well, babe. Pie keeps telling me I'm getting warts.   
TheTallest: Pie? U have a talking savoury?   
FrogPrince: LOL! Short for Pietro. He's an asshole and I can't ignore him 'cause he lives here.   
TheTallest: Launder his smalls with Ben Gay.

Todd roared laughing, and noticed the time. Eleven already? Yow.

FrogPrince: Just my kind of evil. Watch for future bruising   
FrogPrince: It's much late 4 me. Must go to bed if I want to fake awareness 2morrow.   
TheTallest: It's cool. I have a small project to do NEway.   
FrogPrince: School Project?   
TheTallest: Personal finance. Check my site in the AM.   
TheTallest: And go to bed. I know not everyone is a terminal insomniac like me.   
FrogPrince: Goodnight sweetheart.

"Sweetheart," Sara echoed. "Goodnight," she whispered, and kissed the little window.

TheTallest: CU 2morrow, dear.

* * *

Todd smiled and traced a little heart on the screen with his finger. She had logged off, leaving nobody but himself and Big Blue.

FrogPrince: Thanks for everything, doc. Sorry i gave u the bums rush.   
Big Blue: Np. Kids in love do that. Happens to me like u would not believe.   
FrogPrince: Got kids? O.o;   
Big Blue: Not my own.   
Big Blue: Brat! What was that face for?   
FrogPrince: Meep **hides** nothing!!!   
Big Blue: Lol. Go 2 bed. U are usually asleep around this time.   
FrogPrince: My girl's feeling slightly better now. Knows what to xpect. S'all good. So i **could** go 2 bed.   
Big Blue: Worry?   
FrogPrince: Sorta. :/ And I am gonna have trouble sleeping.

Todd told him about what had happened to his window.

Big Blue: Not good. U need xtra blankets? Know a place you can get them for cheap. Almost nothing.   
Frog Prince: Nah, i got a couple nice ones - knitted an' heavy. Anywayz, g'night.   
Big Blue: Night then, sleep well

He logged out of AIM and saved the conversation he'd had with Sara. Frankie froze up at the request to go into standby mode, so Todd had to resort to a ctrlaltdel command to turn the computer off. The boy stretched, grabbed the blankets and pillow off his bed, and trudged downstairs to make up his bed on the couch.   
Todd burrowed under the blankets and curled around himself until the cool air between the cushions and coverings became filled with trapped body heat. It wasn't a quick occurence so Todd lay awake thinking about what the scales would look like and whether or not Cerebro would pick them up. The latter thought made his stomach do unpleasant things.   
He didn't want her to believe she had to dislike him. He didn't want her to be pressured to give him up.   
_No way in hell,_ Sara's voice in his head assured him. _I'll love you no matter what._   
Todd wished with all his might it was real.   
He closed his eyes finally and dreamt of a woman with snakes in her hair, flaring nostrils and beady red eyes who Sara introduced to him as his mother-in-law.   
Sara was reciting something with her eyes downcast and filled with tears. She looked miserable. Todd kept trying to tell her that she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to. Her mother's snake-hair hissed at him. She took out a yardstick and struck him across the shoulders every time he spoke out of turn.   
She belittled, degraded, ridiculed him. Made Sara recite the same words after her. Sara cried at each one. Todd grit his teeth and spat slime over the woman's mouth to silence her. Butterflies flew from his throat instead of gunk and they flurried around her face like dandelion fluff. She smiled horribly and Todd knew he had to run. He reached for Sara's hand only to have her pulled back and away by an unseen force. Todd ran after her.   
How he ran.   
His heart hammering in his chest, Todd whimpered himself awake to find tears on his face. He didn't wonder at the cause. He was afraid. The wide and unfamiliar space of the living room cast in total darkness did not help.   
Todd turned over on his side and buried his face in his arms as the storm outside continued to howl.

* * *

Sara was still awake by the time Todd was fast asleep and dreaming. So far, her animation had stock sounds and music. She'd do some composing in the morning. The need to sleep finally overtook her around two AM, and it was just a complicated wiggle and a step to the niche in the bookcases that sufficed as her bed.   
For the first time in her life, she stripped to her underwear and did **not** slip her nightshirt on. Her skin was prickling and prone to itching at the faintest contact from fabric, so she doused herself liberally in calamine and flopped stomach-down onto her bed.   
She dreamed of waking to discover her eyes were capable of moving independantly, and that she could spear bugs with her tongue. Her dream- self even snapped up small birds(1), much to her personal horror. And always, Mom was there, lecturing her on how proper ladies would never be such exhibitionists about eating live birds. She suggested eating a frog instead, since the world could do with less of them.   
But every time she looked at a frog, the poor creature turned into Todd. He'd look up at her as he perched on his lilly pad and say, "Don't listen to her, sweetums. She's trying to poison you."   
Somewhere along the way, she turned into a snake, and itched to bite someone.   
She felt moderately like hell when she woke up. The rash-lumps had spread, creeping around to the front. Her back was no longer itchy, but it **was** irritable. Extremely sensitive to the touch and it felt like it had something **stuck** in it.   
Several billion small somethings, to be precise.   
It was worse than the time Pamela Anderson(2) accidentally-on-purpose pushed her through the glass wall at the conservatory at Babel Towers. She was finding infitessimal pieces of glass for **ages** afterwards. This was worse because somewhere inside her, she **knew** that this irritation couldn't be plucked out with tweezers.   
She winced at the touch of a bathrobe and snuck out to her little eastern balcony. At the first touch of the dawn's light, she let robe, bra, and underpants drop and, very soflty, began to sing.   
"Lalalala, lalala, lalala, lalalalalalalow...Good morning starshine, The earth says hello... You twinkle above us, We twinkle below. Good morning starshine... You lead us along, My love and me as we sing, Our early morning singing song..."   
The sun always made her feel so much better. Especially the fresh new light of the new day. She washed herself in the light, dancing gently to the music in her head.   
The song, like all good things, ended far too soon and she quickly became self-conscious. What if someone **caught** her doing this? What if **Mom** found out? What if the help knew?   
Sara flew into her robe and stuffed her underthings into a pocket. She quickly tied the sash and bolted for her room. Yesterday's clothes went into the laundry hamper, and she riffled through her T-shirt collection for today's wear. Something kind to tender anatomy, for certain.   
Ah yes. Her "Free the Thylacine" test-shirt. One hundred percent pure, non-allergenic cotton, and soft from multiple washings so it didn't irritate.   
The rash was going to be trouble, she was sure. It had crept onto her face. _Looks like we might be on the fast-track, dear._ She could claim an allergic reaction today, and hide at the boarding house tomorrow. Lord knew she'd given herself enough days off by borrowing her mother's voice.   
Mother-dearest **did** have the opinion that not a single day's worth of education should be wasted. She'd sent Sara to school with chicken pox, measles, and even the mumps.   
It was Sara's own fault for being something of a dab hand with makeup effects. One home zombie movie and one's sick days were forever revoked.   
Large Evian bottle, check. Books, check. Emergency supplies, check. Her bag was packed, and it was barely past five.   
Sara toured down to the kitchens and rustled up breakfast for herself, mother, and the help. She wasn't much, but at least she could be useful. A little artful arrangement, and she had a tray for Mom. She was always quieter than a mouse when she entered her mother's chamber. A sort of ninja mission to deliver a covert gift.   
If Mom ever knew that Sara cooked her breakfasts, she'd never eat them.   
Sara hurried back to the kitchens so she could chat with the house's servants about this or that. She even asked if they knew what could cause such a horrible allergic reaction in her skin.   
She barely remembered to be careful about her thirst.   
Mother came down with her face submerged in her coffee mug. "I trust you found time to do your homework?"   
_In under five minutes, total._ "Of course, Mom. Would you like to check it?"   
"It's too early for that sort of thing," sniped mother. "People awake at this ungodly hour are only there for the people who wake up later."   
Sara shared a nonverbal I'm-sorry with the help.   
Mom refreshed her coffee and stumbled back upstairs. The staff breathed a collective sigh of relief.   
"Almost time for you to go, ma'am," said Ray. He sounded mournful. "You know your bike has trouble starting in the mornings."   
"And that's **with** the blankie," Sara sighed. "Don't worry about Mom. She's just angry at the world. As soon as I move out, she'll feel better."   
"If you say so, ma'am," said Ray.   
It was too soon. She wanted to stay home longer. But she had to go to school regardless of how self-conscious she was about her bubbling rash.   
Another day, another dead rat. This one smelled of almonds, so it was a safe guess that it had been poisoned. Five seconds and a rubber glove saw it into the bin.   
Her eyes itched and watered.   
"Thara, Thara, plain and tall..."   
_Oh **Gods**..._ "Janine... could you - not do that?" Ack. Rubbing them made them worse.   
"Whoah. It's jutht a **joke**... I didn't know you were thith thin thkinned."   
"Nah. I'm allergic to something. My eyes are giving me gyp. Oog." She forced herself not to rub. "I take it your orthadontist was mean to you?"   
"New plate, threatening headgear, three more rubber bandth... do you know what you're allergic to? Could it be **boyth**?"   
"I'm thinking I might be allergic to this school," said Sara, knowing she wasn't going to be heard. "I just feel so rotten."   
"I told you thingth go wrong when you thwallow thperm..."   
Sara scrunched her eyes shut. "That's an urban **myth**, dear." When she opened them, and blinked past the tears, Janine was gone.   
Someone was shrieking with laughter down the hall.   
Apparently, the rumour mill was grinding away.   
"Todd, dear," she murmured, "**please** come by?" Slowly, and very dejectedly, she made her way to morning assembly.

(1) Large enough chameleons **will** eat small birds.   
(2) No relation

* * *


	9. 9

  
Todd awoke some time around three in the morning to the sensation of cold skin. His stray hand sought the blankets which were most likely pooled around his ankles or had fallen off the couch. His hand came up with nothing.   
The boy muttered and opened his eyes, searching around the room. He was **cold** and whosever's idea of a joke this was, it was not cool. His eyes fell on the awol blankets lumped up in an armchair. "Yo, what gives?" Muttering, Todd got up and made his way over to the kleptomaniac furniture to steal back a few more hours of warmth and rest. A tug on a blanket's edge resulted in a string of muffled obscenities. The lump shifted away from him and struggled to tuck the edges of the blankets even tighter around itself.   
Todd thought he recognized the voice. "Tabby?" he groaned. "Yo back already?"   
His answer was a middle finger.   
"I was sleepin' here! You got yo **own** room."   
"So do you. Piss off."   
"Yo just too lazy to walk up the stairs and turn a doorknob!" Todd shouted back. He got flipped off again. "Fine. **I'll** go sleep in yo room." The lump struggled mightily at this and struggled to extract itself from the armchair and blankets. Todd raced upstairs, opened and shut Tabby's door, and stealthily hid in the linen closet.   
The sound of heavy footsteps and death threats bumbled past his hiding place. Todd waited while Tabby's door opened and shut again. There was another string of curses and a soft 'flop' upon squeaky mattress springs. Todd made his way downstairs with the utmost quiet and reclaimed his blankets.   
He curled back up on the couch and fell asleep until about six thirty when two small time bombs nestled between his back and the couch cushions knocked him yelping to the floor. "OW!" he ranted, gingerly exploring now blistered skin. "Tabby, you stupid bitch!"   
"Good morning to you too, froggy," the blonde girl replied cheerily from the next room. "Oooh! Grapenuts! I love those!"   
"Those are mine!" Pietro snapped. There was another explosion. Todd winced, knowing Pietro was in no shape to zip away from Tabitha's effects. "I... guess you could have **one** bowl," the speedster amended, sounding woozy.   
Lance was naturally pissed that Tabby had come home early. The fact that he'd been half threatened into giving her a ride did not make for a happy trip to school. Principal Kelly arrived at the same time and upon seeing Tabby, approached the Brotherhood wearing his famous 'you're-in- deep-muck' face.   
"Ms. Smith," he glared. "I'd like to have a word with you about your truancy--"   
Tabitha waved his words off as if they were fruit flies. "I know, I had a whole bunch of stuff come up. My mother nearly had a heart attack."   
Kelly raised his eyebrow. "Nearly?"   
"See, we **thought** she was having one, but it turned out to be a mild case of cerebral palsy so she's okay."   
Todd was currently making a valiant and painful effort to maintain a straight face. Kelly's expression required him to duck out of notice. "Ms. Smith, I'm not amused. Report to my office after morning assembly." Kelly walked away, either not hearing or not acknowledging the raspberry Tabitha blew at him.   
Todd's snickering broke out into a fit of giggles and fortunately the other boys started laughing at about the same time. Tabby gave them all death glares and stalked toward the school entrance.   
"I think that was about the best thing that happened all morning," Pietro commented, to which they all agreed.   
To Todd, the best thing that would happen was if he managed to score a seat next to Sara at assembly. He detatched himself from the safety of his friends and went looking for her.   
Sara was making her way toward the gym, dodging and apologizing as she tried to dance around people both smaller and larger than herself. Someone tripped her, or tried to. Todd saw her stumble and regain her footing. She was unhurt, though the smile on her face was replaced with a sort of resigned sadness. Todd ducked and twisted until he was near her enough to touch her hand. She looked at him and... there, the wonderful smile was back. And it was for **him**.   
Todd returned it and squeezed her hand as they walked on. "Sit next to me?" he asked unnecessarily, but not daring yet to assume.

* * *

And all of a sudden, there he was, holding her hand. She could only see him if she looked at him directly. "Hello," she smiled. "Of course I'll sit next to you, dear. I need someone to lean on."   
"Trouble?" he said. "Someone beat you up?"   
"Nuh. I just feel like heck." She squinched her eyes again. "Maybe I **am** allergic to something..."   
"Yo' got any of them antihistamines?"   
"They always knock me right out," she said. "Bad idea when I blend into the walls." She let him guide her to two adjoining seats, and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. "Gyah..."   
"So wassup? Yo' kay?"   
"Ungh... my eyes..." she barely kept herself from whining. "They're all itchy and gritty. Got some weird kind of flimmer on the edges."   
"Flimmer?"   
Sara made herself look at him. "Sorry. Speaking in tongues. Flimmer's a kind of flickery, misty obscurity in the vision field. Ever had one of those really bad migranes where you lose patches of reality?"(1)   
"Uh... no... but I know someone who does. You should see Lance when he's got a bad one. Feelin' aroun' fo' shit on the way to the tylenol, yo."   
"Ouch. He has my sympathies." She blinked again. Her eyes were watery but she could fake ways of seeing around that. "I've got the obscured vision but none of the headache. At least, not yet." She groaned. "I'm ultra-hyper-sensitive on the back, too. How often do you go through this?"   
"Once a month," Todd murmured. "Take it cool, yo. Yo' prolly got scales growin' in. That's gotta be tough."   
"Scales?"   
Todd managed a sick, I'm-sorry-as-all-hell grin. "The doc mentioned it might be a possibility. Sorry I couldn't break it to you."   
Scales. She was probably growing scales. That jagged, abrasive, glass- in-the-back feeling was **scales**. "Well... at least I'll be waterproof..."

Todd saw the water bottle in her bag. "An' speakin' of water, yo' need to keep hydrated..." he risked it, "...sweetums." He loosened the cap and pushed the bottle into her hands. "Here. Take a good swig."   
Someone was glaring at them. Some dumpy chick with copper frizz-hair and brackets. She looked extremely pissed off and kept staring at both him and Sara.   
"Yo, take a picture," he sniped.   
"I would, but you'd break the camera," she said, and went back to gossiping with her neighbours.   
"Janine?" said Sara. She turned her head at a slightly wrong angle. "There you are. Got plenty of good material?"   
"I'm thure I don't know what you're talking about Thara," lied Janine. "I wathn't thaying a thing about your allergieth."   
_Shyah. **Riiiight**,_ thought Todd.   
"OmiGod!" The Trish next to Janine squealed laughing. "Allergic to **sperm**?"   
Janine tried to look innocent while the whole school rivitted its attention on Trish, who blushed and tried to hide.   
"Thank you, Miss Walker..." drawled Kelly. "Now, if we could move onto more **important** news?"   
Sara was laughing behind her hand. "Ah, cosmic justice," she said. "Where is thy sting?"   
Todd allowed himself a small chuckle. "She gets what she deserves, yo." _I'll see to it all, personal-like._   
"Leave her be," said Sara. "Janine's just seeking social acceptability. It's difficult with her current appearance, so she falls to gossip."   
_Damnit,_ Todd thought. _Can't you let me kick her? Just once?_ Aloud, he said, "Yeah, but she shouldn't talk shit about **you**... Yo' her friend."   
"Associate," corrected Sara. "We kind of banded together as the kids that no team wants."   
_Ouch. I'm hurting._   
"She has her good moments, too, you know."   
"Yo' got three of them?" wondered Todd.

(1) Yes, I have had headaches like that. It's most unnerving when one is writing notes and 'loses' one's notes, pen and hand, but not the notepad.

* * *

Sara chewed on her lip. "I appreciate the cavalier attitude, but I don't tend to judge friends for their shortcomings or flaws. She's not a dragon. That's good enough."   
"Dragon?"   
"Someone you have to do battle with."   
"Ah." Todd was wincing inwardly. _So is that why she tolerates me? Cause I don't give her shit?_   
Sara seemed to pick up on what he was thinking and poked him. "Don't you **dare**. I might not have high expectations of my aquaintances, but you I like. A lot." She faltered, uncertainly. What if she'd said too much?   
_Good, scare him off. Not that you could do otherwise, but you'll be better off alone than with this one,_ her inner Mom put in.   
Sara's eye flickered. She looked away from Todd and stared at her hands.   
"I like you too, babe." Todd found no problem this time adding the endearment. She needed it. "A lot," he echoed with a teasing grin. _I wish you could know how much._   
"Today, we will be conducting a fire drill," Kelly's voice droned on. The student noise level swelled with groans and excited chatter. "If I may have your undivided attention," the principal called out over the ruckus. He did not speak until there was considerably less sound traffic. This happened fairly quick since nobody wanted a prolonged assembly. "Anyone caught skipping out on the rest of the school day will be given a week's worth of detention. Suspension seems rather pointless for people who want **out** of school." His joke earned a few chuckles from both students and faculty.   
Out of the corner of his eye, Todd saw Janine glare at him again and whisper something to Trish. He fought the urge to reach over and smack the back of her head. Sara saw his scowl and followed his gaze.   
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Associating with me will kick you down the social ladder a few pegs."   
"People gossip about me all the time, yo. I'm used to it."   
"Ah." Sara nodded knowingly. "The worst is when you don't know **what** they're saying, yet you know it's about you." She took a long draught from the bottle.   
"Thirsty, Essel?" sneered Taryn. "You drink like a camel."   
_Uh oh._ Sara could feel Todd's hackles raising. She moved her foot to nudge his and shook her head as he looked at her. Sara lowered the bottle from her lips and licked them. Oosh, they felt dry even while wet.   
"Ignore them, dearest, and save thy energy. They're just dragonlets."   
"Like I said, I'm used to it. But it's **different** when it's aimed at you," Todd murmured, looking distraught.   
Sara's heart melted into a puddle of happy goop, but her brain sensed danger for him. "Don't invite more trouble on yourself."   
"Trouble's my middle name, sugar. It don't need no invitation."

* * *

Halfway down the hall, following the shuffling masses, Sara said, "Want to see if I can spit like one?"   
"Huh?" said Todd.   
"That's what I should have said. I thought water made the brain **work**."   
"Don't feel bad, yo. I'm always a li'l fogged when I'm sheddin'. Guess all that water's bein' used elsewhere."   
Sara shut her 'bad' eye. "Nearly outside," she said. "Thanks for being my seeing-eye person."   
"Hey, no problem," he said. "Yo need help an' I'm here, y'know?" _Besides, you're kinda pretty and I don't want neither side getting their claws into you and I want you in ways that I've never considered with the other girls._   
Sara giggled. "I keep waiting for the shoe to drop. The hammer to fall. Or Damocles' sword..."   
"Who?"   
"Myth and legend, never mind." She sighed and moaned slightly in the sunlight. Mmmm. Warm. "Nobody's ever this nice to me unless they're setting me up. No offence, dear, but life has taught me paranoia."   
"Eeehhhh..." said Todd. "An' I know there ain't nuthin' I can say to make it feel better 'cause the rats've said it first. Shit." He kicked a rock, and watched it sail directly over to Duncan Matthews' head. _Score!_ So what if it was only a pebble? Dunc would never trace it to him. "But I mean it when I tell yo' I don't want nuthin' bad happenin', 'kay?"   
"Intellectually, yes. Alas, my instincts cry to protect myself. Just ignore it when I get twitchy."   
They had to seperate to file into their first-period class lines. And by the time Sara found Janine, half the school was murmuring that Adrian Essel was currently high on E.   
Sara ignored them and applied another coat of calamine while they waited. At least the sunshine felt good. If only she wasn't so feverishly **thirsty**...

* * *


	10. 10

  
He couldn't help but play over her words in his mind as he walked to his class. He couldn't help but think of the time he'd laughed when Pietro bragged about scattering Sara's bag all over the campus. He didn't even know who Essel **was** and hadn't really had any part in it. Just felt good to be on the side of the prankster for once. Yet it still felt as though he'd helped torment her.   
Well he could do something now, couldn't he? Todd rescued his text book from the trash-cluttered doom box that was his locker and scuttled as he noticed the hall clock. He could prove it to Sara somehow that his intentions were honest. Er, maybe 'honest' wasn't the best choice all things considered.   
"On time for once," congratulated his teacher as he ducked in at the last possible minute. He managed to score a seat in the second front. Unfortunately it was next to Daniels. The boy wasn't paying any attention to him which was good. Todd could do the same.   
"Today we will be pairing up. You will interview your partners as if they were Shakespearan characters from Hamlet. I'll write a few sample questions up on the board. I want you each to ask about six and share the answers with the class in thirty minutes."   
_Cool,_ Todd thought. Until he realized that everyone in his row had selected their partners, leaving Daniels. Evan looked half asleep already.   
The only way Todd could tell he was still awake was by a lazy rolling pair of brown eyes which came to rest on him.   
"So we're together." Evan's tone was flat.   
"Er, guess so. Unless you wanna pass out and I can interview Yorick."   
Evan stared blankly.   
"The dead jester, yo."   
"I cannot believe **you** pay attention in this class. How can you bear this stuff?"   
"It's good, yo. More drama than Springer. Kid's mom marries his dad's murderer and pretends to go crazy. How can you bear to fall asleep?"   
Evan rolled his eyes again. "Let's just get it over with."   
Todd opened his text and flipped to the story. "Hang on for a minute. I'll pick out my character. Okay, I'm the uncle. Shoot."   
Daniels stared at the scribbles. "You draw? That looks like Essel."   
"Her name's Sara, yo. She's a girl. Everyone thinks she's a boy though."   
Daniels looked wide awake now. "Are you shittin' me?"   
"That doesn't sound like a very appropriate question, Mr. Daniels," remarked Mr. Hinkley as he passed them.   
"Sorry." They waited until he moved on. "So he, I mean she . . . if that's true why hasn't she said anything?"   
"Because people are stupid and they don't listen." Todd saw Mr. Hinkley coming back. "Okay, ask a question before we get detention. And I said nothin' about Sara that you need to go repeatin' around anybody, you unnastand, foo?"   
Evan glared. "Wasn't going to."   
"Good."   
"You sure are protective of this info. Makes me wonder how you found out."   
"Watch it wiseass. So, what made you believe Hamlet's mom was going to let you ax her hubby?"   
"Huh?" Evan asked, caught off guard and not realizing the teacher was standing behind him. He caught on when Todd kicked his ankle under the desk. "Oh! Well . . . she thought I was hotter."   
"Uhhhh huh. Anything else? Did you threaten her or promise her goods?"   
"I guess I did both. I think I said I'd kill Hamlet if she didn't cooperate."   
"Very creative, boys," Mr. Hinkley approved, smirking in amusement. He moved to another pair.   
Daniels sighed in relief and Todd moved on to the next question. They didn't bring Sara up again and something about the way Todd had looked when he did talk about her warned Evan against making a second attempt. By the time the bell rang ending class, Evan had forgotten her in favor of realizing that he had five minutes to study for an algebra quiz.

* * *

"What on **Earth** happened to **you** today?" asked Mr Sheindlin. "Anyone would think you didn't **like** Computer class."   
"Contrary to rumour, I'm allergic to something mysterious," Sara slid into her seat and began opening tabs in her browser(1). "The leading suspect is **air**."   
Some of the class giggled and there were whispers containing a certain vowel. Lovely. Maybe she could work it into her featured animation.   
Sara found out that she could focus if she scrinched her eyes painfully shut for an entire second, but all the same, she was mostly coding by feel.   
Mr Sheindlin had one rule for computer class: No games unless you code them yourself, or are beta testing by request of the coder.   
Sara at least was popular when she finished coding a game. Albeit briefly. Half the accusations of "Adrian's" drug lifestyle came from the people who enjoyed her weird sense of humour.   
No matter. All she had to do was survive. One more day. Then she could hide out and weather the worst of her skin trouble and work out what to do from there.   
All she had to do was survive.   
From computer class to Remedial Ed. Mr Kawalski sighed at her appearance and got her and Freddy working on spoken grammar.   
"Your eyes look really bad," said Freddy.   
"They do? How bad is 'bad'?"   
"They're all milky an' stuff," he supplied. "An' before you cry? They get all bulgy."   
"'And', dear. Mind your consonants."   
"Right. Sorry."   
Sara pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Ugh. I haven't had this much trouble with my eyes since I made the mistake of painted contacts...(2)" Realisation hit her like a truck. "Lizards... Of **course**. Freddy? Is anyone watching us?"   
"Nuh-uh."   
She briefly washed her hands in a small slosh of her water, then held open one eye and plucked at its surface. There was a small, slithery feeling and a sudden relief of itch from one eye. And clarity.   
"Sara?" said Freddy.   
"Snakes shed the scales that cover their eyes, dear," she said. Minor slithery feelings resulted in her newly cleared eye evicting the last shreds of the last eye-coating. "I guess I have some of those properties."   
Quickly, now, she removed the other one and put the evidence inside a tissue. "Oh, **my** that is such a relief..."   
The tears weren't going away in a hurry, unfortunately. Sara rode them out, begging a refill of her bottle halfway through class, and found herself counting the hours until the end of the day.   
She couldn't wait to tell Todd about the eyes. She definitely had one up on the weird-ometer for that one.   
Mr Kian removed her from class for a half-hour to lecture her on why drugs were dangerous. Rumour was **ever** a replacement for evidence in **this** school.   
She didn't protest, she just smiled and nodded, accepted the pamphlets, and added them into the grist she collected for the Janine Collateral Damage Collage she had planned for an art project this year.

Lunchtime.   
Sara found herself craving protein and carbs, so it had to be the special fried rice plus the tuna salad. And a lot of milk.   
She smiled when she found Todd and actually managed to avoid the gauntlet for a change on her way over to him.   
"Hello, stranger," she smiled. "Are you okay for lunch today?"

(1) Mozilla Firebird and tab-browsing rock   
(2) Some make-up effects are made by actually **painting** the inside of a contact lens. This causes irreparable harm to the surface of the eye. I'm frankly shocked that various makeup departments don't know this.

* * *

Todd was ranting at himself all the way down the hall. _Great, foo, why not just tell the rest of the X-geeks about Sara._ He didn't want them to notice her. It was bad enough if Lance and Pietro noticed her and he'd already proudly told them he had a girl. They were going to be paying attention.   
Freddy could help keep them in check if they found out Sara was loaded. But the X-geeks would approach her and make nice or wipe her brain or something. Todd shuddered involuntarily at the remembrance of spider legs walking through his mind right after his first espionage assignment. Todd had learned nothing of great significance, but Xavier had checked anyway. **He** had gone through his **memories** - ones he didn't want anyone to know. The ones he wanted to disown. Xavier probably knew all his secrets. Todd couldn't trust someone like that.   
He popped open his locker. No text for Spanish today. He'd lent it to Tabby over the weekend and had seen nothing of it since. Ms. Cortes was going to skin him alive. Fortunately, Todd knew the combination to the locker next to his which belonged to Paul - one of Summers' friends. Todd pulled out the Spanish book and hoped he'd have time to return it before Paul noticed it missing.   
"Hola, clase."   
"Hola, Senora Cortes."   
_Que aburrida,_ Todd scribbled at the top of his notes. _Deseo dormir ya, y la clase no ha comenzado._(1) He contented himself by drawing more pictures of Sara in the margins, paying attention only when the person in front of him was called to read from the book. Todd executed his turn, pausing when the teacher corrected his pronounciation.   
High school spanish wasn't a language class. It was a parrot class. Everyone just repeated what they heard while Todd practiced his own skills by writing his thoughts down in Spanish. Man, he was going to be screwed if Mrs. Cortes saw his notes, but Spanish was a secret code he could use to write about anything or anyone he wanted.   
Todd looked up at the clock. Ten minutes left and it was lunch. Drawings were one pleasant distraction, but the real thing was infinitely better.

"Hey stranger, you okay for lunch?"   
Todd looked up from a comic book.(2) "Yo, you're lookin' better. And you got an appetite. That's good news."   
"Ugh, I might be looking more bright-eyed..." Sara popped a forkful of tuna into her mouth. Maybe not as gracefully as Lady Favisham would have approved, but she was **hungry**.   
"I know," Todd soothed sympathetically. His voice was already quiet, but he lowered it just in case. "I ain't never had no scales come in, but I can imagine. I've had **gravel** trapped between new and old, and it **wasn't** fun."   
Sara made a face around her next bite. "Ack. The thought makes my skin itch even **more**."

(1) translation: How boring. I want to sleep already, and class has not begun.   
(2) Calvin and Hobbes

* * *

Sara didn't want to risk peeling her skin and exposing anything scale- like during school hours, so she placed her palms on her arms(1) and wobbled the flesh. Not that it did anything for her actual discomfort, but it quelled her desire to scratch. "Gyah. I'm going to change the subject to something even grosser, dear. I'm sorry, but at least it's not going to make me itch worse." The last remnant of her left eye-scale chose that exact moment to appear in the corner of her eye. Sara quickly wiped it out. "Remember my vision problems this morning? It turns out I was shedding skin from my **eyes**."   
Todd shuddered, but that didn't stop him ingesting. "Ick, yo."   
"Sorry," she engulfed more of her lunch. "Dear... I think my metabolism might be going into hyperdrive."   
Freddy was nodding. "That happens," he said. "You're not sick, but you **feel** that way?"   
"Oh heck, yes," said Sara. She almost inhaled her milk. A snatch of tune escaped her mouth. "I'm not sick, but I'm not well..." She instantly blushed and covered her mouth.   
Todd, seemingly uneffected by her caterwauling, sang the next line, "And I'm so ho-oooot, 'cause I'm in heeee-eeell..." He laughed. "Know the feeling, doll. If it's any consolation, yo, it's all gonna be downhill after tomorrow."   
"O, tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow... creeps in this petty pace from day to day... Oh **dear**... Todd, darling, please... I **need** somewhere to hide out tomorrow. Mother--" twitch "--needs to believe I've gone to school. The school needs to believe I'm staying at home. Can I **please** hide over at your place?"

Todd remembered that he had his hand up his sleeve and a handful of dead skin. Yes, she **had** called him 'darling'. He wasn't dreaming. On the other hand, the way she said it had - **intonations**. It was you'll- be-a-darling-if-you-say-yes, not darling-I-love-you. When she said 'dear' to him, he heard I-kinda-like-you-but-I-dunno-what-to-do-next.   
It was amazing what Sara could pack into a few syllables.   
"Hey, take it as given," he breezed. "We got a room or two that we ain't using fo' trash. Y'know... if yo' need privacy fo' anythin'. Or somewhere t' stash yo' stuff. Or sumpin."   
"Something," said Sara, possibly on automatic. "Thank you. Will you - er- also be there?" She went pink again.   
He loved that blush. _My crimson cutie..._ Part of his mind was appalled. _I did **NOT** just think that!_   
Unfortunately for his hopes of answering, **Pietro** had to show up.   
"Heywhatthehellareyoudoin'talkin'toEsselfor? Shouldn'tyoubemakin'smoochiewithyouralleged**girl**?"   
"Shuddup, Pie-pie," Todd growled.   
Sara blinked. "Goodness. You certainly cram in the words per second, don't you? Todd, dear, is this a **friend** of yours?"   
_Translation: Do we have to be friends with him because he's a mutant?_ "Yeah, he's one of us. Ignore him. He's an asshole." _And there's no way I'm tellin' you what he did to yo' stuff, neither._   
"Hey, atleastIactually**talk**togirls," said Pietro. "Thereisn'tagirlinthisschoolwhowon'tfallfortheoldquicksilvercharm."   
"I can think of **one**," Sara drawled.   
"Areyoustillhere?"   
"Ah, so you're blind as **well** as stupid," Sara said. "No wonder you couldn't see that we were having a pleasant conversation."   
_ZING!_ Todd grinned. Rare was the time someone got one up on the speedster. It looked like all that water was finally helping.   
"Aren'tyoutheguywhocarriesaround**feminine stuff**?" He zipped around behind her. "Lemmegiveyouasimplehint. Dicksdon'tbleed."   
_O God, no,_ thought Todd.   
"Ifyougotnothinguphere--" he 'honked' her left breast.   
WHAP! "Comport yourself, sir!"   
_The hell?_ Todd stood, trying to find where Pietro went.   
"Whoah," said Freddy.   
Pietro was under a neighbouring table, holding his face. Sara had one hand over her mouth in frightened amazement.   
When he emerged, Pietro had a perfect red palm-print on his jaw. "Unh..." he managed. "Ah... fuckin' 'ell..." Very, very carefully, he made sure his jaw was still undislocated.   
"I'mterriblysorry," Sara murmured, trying to untangle herself from the chair, her bag, and the table. "I didn't even know I **had** that reflex. Lady Favisham's must have **got** to me. Do you need a hand to the nurse's off--"   
"Don'tfuckin'touchme!" Pietro scrabbled away and hid behind Fred.   
Fred immediately scragged him by the front of his shirt. "I got half a mind ta pound ya **myself** for what ya did."   
"Freddy, **please**," Sara chided. "Violence isn't **you**."   
And, amazingly, Fred put Pie-pie down and actually **pouted**.   
_Yo, this has gotta be some weird mutant power,_ Todd boggled. Three words and she got the big guy to settle down and not want to fight. Sometimes it took the 'hood a whole **day**. "Did I ever tell yo' you're amazin'?" he said. He risked holding her hand. _Ow. Her poor skin. She's all dry an' lumpish. Damn, those must be new scales. Poor kiddo..._   
She wrapped both hands around his and went pink. She ducked her head, but since he was much shorter, he was in an ideal position to see her smile for him. "No, I'm not," she mumbled. "It's just a dumb trick."   
Daniels was giving them the hairy eyeball.   
Todd gave him the finger.   
Then, by some unknown magic, a teacher appeared into the scene. "**Mister** Maximoff! I believe this is the third time you've been **told** about brawling on school grounds?(2)"   
"But-- he-- I mean--"   
"No excuses. Detention."   
There was a distant, "**Yes**!" from the X-geek table.   
"Suck it, Daniels!" Pietro shouted.   
"**Two** hours' detention," said the teacher. "Want to shoot for three or are we going to come along quietly?"   
Todd took the chance to escort Sara from the scene and find the one faucet reliable for filling up bottles. "You OK?"

He was holding her hand.   
A boy.   
A real, live **male** of the species... **wanted** to touch her.   
Something quantum had gone wrong with the universe(3).   
"Uh-uh," she nodded mutely and tried to swig from her empty bottle. No water. She was still thirsty.   
"Here, yo." He held her hand - again - as he guided the bottle under the faucet and turned it on. He touched her face. Light, gentle, **cool** fingers... His skin was so smooth. "You sure you okay?"   
"You're. You are," she said. Her whole body jumped in a shiver. "Hah... Oh my... I've never **had** nerves before. Is that what it's like?"   
"Yo, you were fan-frikkin'-tastic, cutie-pie. I could **kiss** yo'."   
"Something's stopping you?" she babbled.   
His gentle touch bought her head down to his.   
Their lips met.   
He tasted sweet.   
He smelled of forest floors and rich, wet earth.   
Such a moment could have lasted forever... but the bottle overflowed and the splashing water soaked into their ankles.   
They broke apart in an embarressed flurry to at least halt the spread of the mess.   
Sara spilled half the bottle over her shirt in her fright.   
"Todd..." she said. "I--"   
Rrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnggggg...   
_--have to go to class. Damnit._ "After school?"   
"Death can't stop me," he said, "Sugarlips."   
Sara was beetroot-red and prone to giggle all the way to class.

Evan poked Kurt with a note in AP Chem.   
"Dude," he whispered. "We're supposed to be watching the **film**."   
"Read the fuckin' note," Evan hissed.   
Kurt rolled his eyes and unfolded the paper.   
_Just saw Essel and **Toad** kissing,_ Evan had written. _Only, Essel's real name is **Sara** or something. I still think she's a guy. Does that make me gay?_   
Kurt tore up the note with a pointed glare at his friend. "Get a **grip**," he murmured. "Geez..."

(1) Hey, that rhymed! Whee!   
(2) Teachers always pick on the wounded, rather than the woundee, to haul off to the office. I've yet to fathom **why**.   
(3) I'm pretty sure I've paraphrased Pratchett here...

* * *

He couldn't help but sing, although mindful to do so under his breath while passing anyone who might pay the wrong kind of attention. She hadn't pulled away. Hell, she kissed him back. Todd was so happy he passed his classroom, swore cheerfully when he realized the mistake, and circled back.   
"Well, **you're** on time for once." Ms. Jones said by way of greeting.   
"Fine, how are you?" Todd distractedly answered the wrong question as he found his seat.   
The teacher launched straight into modern history and the standardized account of what happened during Eisenhower's reign as president. Eisenhower the hero. No mention was made in relation to the Congo or diamonds, or Patrice Lumbaba.(1) But Todd didn't feel up to writing side notes. For once he was content to dishonor the truth and be a sheep if it meant he could escape into his little dream world.   
Sara was going to stay with him tomorrow. All day perhaps while she waited out her changes... maybe more than one day - who knew? Todd knew he was going to have to make preparations. He could trust Fred or Lance to bring homework and make excuses for him if it extended past the weekend. Thursday he had to be present for a stupid group presentation in order to get credit. The rest of the days he could skip easy. Maybe Fred could stay with her on Thursday and have the day off for himself.   
Todd wasn't going to think of enlisting Pietro's help with any of this, not unless the speedster showed remorse. _Shyeah, like that's gonna happen. Ass._ He was going to have to see to him. Sara'd gotten him pretty good, but Todd would personally make sure the message had been delivered. He didn't want her to be bothered by anything - poor kid had enough goin' in with her new scales. He wondered what else was going to happen. Maybe her **eyes** were gonna change too. Pupils elongated and turned to slits in daylight. No matter what, she was beatiful to him. He was going to make sure she knew that.   
She wasn't going to ever feel ugly. Or unwanted. Not like his pop had made him feel. She was going to be **happy** with who she was. Todd would do his best to make it so.   
Someone tapped his shoulder. Todd then became aware of murmuring voices. The teacher was calmly up front reading from her grade book and everyone had their books open to the same page. Except him. Todd peeked at his neighbor's book and calmly turned to the correct page. The tapping started again, more insistent.   
"Yo?" he asked, turning around. He came face to braces with Janine. "You aren't in this class."   
"Thaking nothes for a friend.(2) Did you really kith Thara? Trish thays thee thaw you."   
Todd turned his back on her and looked back at his history book. They were supposed to be doing Assignment 3A review questions. Todd figured there was nothing else to do.   
_Poke**poke**poke_ went the sharpened pencil into his shoulder.   
"What was the slogan Eisenhower used in his campaign?" Todd asked.   
"We like Ike or something. Dith you or dith you not?"   
"I did."   
"Even though you thought the was a **boy**?"   
"You're a sick sad little person you know that, Mouthy? She don't ever gossip 'bout you. Why you give her grief? Make you feel better bout yo'self knowin' yo' higher up on the food chain, don't it?"   
"I'm thure I don't know what you mean by that," Janine stated, eyebrows raised coolly.   
"You just wait 'til yo' all alone one step up and ain't nobody got yo' back. It's lonely up there with the other predators. Sooner or later they'll knock you down and ain't nobody goin' to help you up. Not even Sara. You'll be there one day. Count on it."   
Janine glared. "I don't think I'm thalking tho you anymore. Goodbye." She slammed her book shut just as the teacher announced they could leave before the bell.

Art was a pleasant distraction from mulling over the unpleasant consequences that might come from pissing off Janine. Even though Todd hated cubism and hated newsprint collages even more. Somehow Mrs. Spindel had been forced into using less paint and more recyclable mediums. She's combined cubism with newsprint this assignment. Todd was giving killer death glares to his tube of Elmer's which liked to give large overdoses to tiny shapes of paper no matter how gently he squeezed.   
He wanted the day to be over; even in art, the clock was moving unnaturally slow. Todd pulled out the piece of black paper he'd managed to glue into his hair and stuck it to the canvas.   
Kurt kept glancing at him, trying not to look threatening or curious, and failing at the latter. There were some times blissful moments when Todd forgot he shared a class or two with the elf. When he could pretend the X-men were just a bad comic idea.   
"Problem?" he drawled.   
"Not unless you wish it," Kurt replied evenly. "Just looking at your art, if you don't mind." He'd been looking straight at _Todd_ and both of them knew he'd been caught.   
"Rumors flying around already?" Todd whispered. He knew what kind of rumors. "Tryin' to see if my skin'll turn rainbow?"   
Kurt snorted despite himself. "Nein. Just trying to find a way to wish you good luck without getting my head bitten off."   
"Luck?" Todd was dumbfounded.   
"With all the pressure. Essel's a lady by name of Sara. I know that. Wouldn't care if I didn't. You love her, that's what's important right? I hope it doesn't make you doubt yourself or each other."   
Todd felt a small something twinge in his stomach. "I wouldn't. Er. I get defensive sometimes, you know? It's cause I want people to just stop... to just accept us and get over themselves."   
Kurt chuckled. "Don't we all?"   
"Yeah, we all do. I know your story, boy, but how bad do you got to deal with shit like this? You can hide from the worst of it behind that watch and behind your friends."   
"Not from all of it," Kurt murmured, rubbing a bruise. "Not from **everything**. Maybe not as bad as you, but I still struggle. Doesn't that count enough?"   
Todd wanted to say something sarcastic and cutting to show Kurt that nothing had changed. "Maybe," he retorted uncertainly. _Yea, fuckin' brilliant._ Feeling flustered, he turned back to the collage and Kurt seemed content to keep his furry yap shut until the last bell.

(1) Read Barbara Kingsolver's 'Poisonwood Bible' for class, and Eisenhower reportedly ordered the assassination of Patrice Lumbaba (shoot me if I spelled it wrong) the elected president of the newly independent Congo. The Belgians and Americans still wanted the diamonds and independent Congo was going to make it very difficult to capitalize on that. A very powerful book.   
(2) My high school actually let people do this. If the person had study hall and a friend who was absent, she (it was an all girl school I attended) could go to that friend's class and take notes and collect reading material. I don't know about Bayville high, but let's pretend they're liberal.

* * *


	11. 11

  
Her eyes may have been better, but they still ran copiously and puffed up to the point where, if she had had bruising, she would have been called in for being in a fight.   
As it was, Mr Kian called her away from music class to talk about the dangers of sexual relationships and some practices that could lead to nasty diseases in very strange places indeed(1).   
Sara held tight to her personal honour and let people think what they'd think anyway. She couldn't really handle this. She couldn't fight it. Fighting only confirmed people's suspicions. Denial made them talk louder. Muteness... didn't really work.   
And Sara refused to be worse than the rumours.   
Let them talk their idle heads off. They had no idea what she'd been through or what she was actually going through. And better that they didn't know.   
The prickling, itchy, irritating sensation under her skin was sharpening into near-agony.   
She'd have to take an antihistamine just so she could sleep tonight.   
Sara wiped her eyes and found a place to stand very still in near the gates. If anyone actually bothered to look at her, she'd have appeared very upset with the world indeed.   
Not that many people bothered to look.   
Just the ones that counted. 

Aw geez, she was crying. "You okay, sugarcakes?"   
"Believe it or not, I'm actually fine. My eyes just happen to leak a lot."   
"Yo, you an' me, we goin' chat with the doc." Todd decided. "This eye thing is just too fucked up, yo."   
Sara blushed.   
"Oops," Todd managed a sick grin. As far as he remembered, Sara hadn't actually sworn about anything. "Sorry 'bout th' french."   
"I should be used to it," she wiped her eyes again. "But I never am. I always blush. Silly girl."   
"Naw yo' ain't," said Todd. "it's just a thang, y'know? People got thangs."   
"So where is this infamous physician?"   
"Online," Todd found Eileen and made himself comfortable on the seat. "C'mon. I show you my setup."   
Sara went beet red, but she unlocked the chain and started on their way, regardless.   
"Sure yo' okay to drive?"   
"Yeah. Tears only blur vision temporarily. I've driven and cried before."   
_Ow._

Pietro came to a screeching halt when he heard someone unfamilliar in Todd's room.   
Todd never had any visitors. Ever.   
"No offense, dear, but I'm going to have to call in a hazmat team on your lounge," said the stranger. "And possibly hire a skip per room."   
"Yeah, we kinda let things slide fo' a while. It's cool, yo. The room we're lendin' yo' is empty. Swear."   
"Darling, I couldn't let this slide if I was comatose."   
_Darling?_ Pietro boggled and peeked in. There, sharing PC-junkpile space with Toad, was Adrian Essel.   
"There. See? I run several small enterprises, some toons, and a rather small film company."   
"Rather? Yo, I seen more crew on PBS." Some strange sounds played. "Funny as shit, though."   
Essel grinned. "You know... there's no-one about and your doctor friend is offline..."   
"Yeah?"   
"Maybe we could continue our -er- lunchtime discussion?"   
"You serious?"   
"Are you... Yes. I must confess I rather quite liked it."   
They kissed.   
_FUCK!_   
Pietro had to look five times. Toad "straighter than an arrow" Tolensky and Adrian "fucked in the head" Essel. The Toad and the guy with the silicone breasties(2) under his shirt.   
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee**EEEEEEEEE**eeeeeeeeuuuuuuuuuwwww...

(1) I have seen photos of genital herpes gone rife on some poor sod's face. Icko.   
(2) You know, those "enhance your bust" bra-stuffers.

* * *

Todd couldn't breathe and he didn't care. _So this is what they mean when they say drown in a kiss. Mmmm._   
His hands reached around to hold her, slowly and tense - ready to pull away if she protested. There didn't seem to be any of **that** going on, so by the time both surfaced for air, Todd's arms were wrapped around her and he was looking up at her through half-lidded amber eyes. They only ever turned this golden when he was truly happy.   
A frightened squeak from the doorway alerted him that they had an audience. Todd looked over his shoulder.   
"Oh, hey, 'Tro." There was a second squeak, a blur and the slamming of a door down the hall. Sara raised an eyebrow.   
"Ignore it. He'll either come around or avoid us. Honestly, yo, I'd rather he avoid us."   
"So long as he leaves us alone, I'm happy."   
"Yeah... so, uh," Todd said shyly. "Now that we seemed to have caught our breaths..."   
Sara blushed, and leaned down again.

* * *

Sara was quite sure something had gone to her head. She felt dizzy and elated and almost as if she could fly. Her skin, now that she wasn't focussing on staying pink, took on Todd's pallor, but not its texture. The underlying roughness of her new-growing scales interrupted that particular function for the meantime. Her hair, past due for a cut and starting to fall into her eyes, also changed to match Todd's.   
"Oh **my**," she said. She pulled a strand so she could stare myopically at it.   
"Coo', yo," Todd smirked. "Instant makeover."   
"I wonder..." Sara found a reflective surface and - **focussed**... Tan skin, red-red hair. Just like Jean Grey. If Jean Grey was almost six feet tall and freakishly thin with a bad case of the hives. She sighed and let herself relax. "I **still** couldn't make Mother happy..."   
"You were tryin' to be someone?"   
"I had to hope it was possible," she confessed. "Mother always wanted me to be like Jean Grey." She touched the mirror, and the reflective silver spread all over her. "I'm a pale, sad mimic, dear. A thin imitation of what others want."   
"Hey... yo... Don' think like that, sugarlips," Todd was over beside her and holding her hand. "You don't gotta be like nobody else but yo'self, sweetie. I seen who you are, okay? An' I like that you. You don't gotta be nobody else wit' me."   
Half of her was a mirror. Half of her was Todd's colouration. All of her was irritable and her eyes were leaking again.   
"What a strange, twisted lady you've won a favour from(1)..." she whispered.   
Todd snuggled up beside her. "Yo' perfect just the way you are, doll. Don't let nobody say nuthin' different."   
Now she was crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I dunno what's happening... I'm not normally this - this - uncompanionable."   
"Yo' changin', sug'," he soothed. "That's gotta do sumpin' to ya." He guided her to the chair least likely to collapse, and gave her some more water. "Just ride it out, it's coo'. You gonna be fine."   
"I don't **feel** very fine... I'm sure - I'm **sure** part of me wants to hurt things... And I'm not like that."   
"So ignore it. **You** know who you are... just stay that way."   
The next thing she knew, she had him in a death grip and was babbling about not wanting to eat the innocent little birds. Todd had one hand free and was trying to send an IM.

FrogPrince: Yo! Doc! SOS!

(1) Paraphrased and turned around from _The Mountains of Mourning_ by Lois McMasters Bujold.

* * *

Dammit, he wasn't on yet. Todd hit the capslock.

Frog Prince: LOOK AT THE SCREEN

Sometimes that actually worked, most times it didn't. But it would leave an impact on the seriousness of the situation; Todd rarely wrote in all caps.   
Sara was trembling violently and issuing thin little cries between babbled apologies. Each sound of misery tore at him like the beak of some carrion bird. Todd turned from the computer to wrap both arms around her and hold her close. She buried her face in his arms and after a moment, though she barely moved, Todd was sure she was sobbing.   
It hurt to see how well she'd taught herself to be subtle about it. Todd kissed her hair. "I'm scared too, yo," he whispered. Great, now his own eyes were stinging. He couldn't fall apart, not when she needed him.   
He **was** scared. What if Sara was like one of those unlucky ones Magneto had talked about? The ones who didn't survive their powers manifesting? Not for the first time, he sorely missed having an adult around.   
_Ding!_   
Todd turned back hurriedly to the screen.

Big Blue: What's the trouble?   
Frog Prince: Saras in a lot of pain. Scales coming out and all that plus her eyes are burning no matter how much she cries. I thought tears were supposed to help   
Big Blue: Sometimes there are negative reactions   
Frog Prince: But this is fucked up. I wanna help her. All I can do is hold her and be useless. She's so **scared**   
Big Blue: Actually, holding her is probably helping more than you know

Sara hiccuped. Todd's hand left the keyboard and offered her more water. She downed the rest of the bottle in one sitting.   
"I must look wretched."   
"Impossible," Todd stated. "Yo ain't lookin' like no wretch. You're my **Sara**."

Big Blue: You said her eyes are itching and weeping?   
Frog Prince: She 'splained to me that she was sheddin' skin off her eyeballs   
Big Blue: Stay with her. I'm going to look up a few things

Todd's eyes were already back on Sara. Gently he stroked her scalp with his fingers, trailing them softly across her poor inflamed skin. She closed her eyes and curled closer againt him. Unsure of himself, Todd pulled his hand away intent upon wrapping it safely around her shoulders. She took it and pressed it to her cheek again.   
"That felt good. Please?"   
They stayed like that for a while, wrapped around each other in the armchair as both the world outside and the room they were in grew steadily dark.

All Lance wanted to do when he got home from work was collapse on his bed. No extra baggage, no phonecalls, no homework until six in the morning. No crying teenaged girls in Todd's room either.   
Waitafuckinminute.   
Lance walked backward and stared into Todd's room. He could dimly make out two figures nestled together, one much taller than the other. Though the features were barely highlighted by the computer screen, it wasn't hard to determine who Todd's guest was.   
"Todd?" Lance asked in his 'I promise not to hurt you very **much** so long as you tell me exactly what's going on' voice. "Why is he here and why is he crying?"   
A pair of amber eyes opened and peered angrily at him from within the huddle. "Her name's Sara Essel. She's a mutant and she's stayin' until she sorts some things out. She's my guest. We'll stay outta your way if you don't bother us."   
Lance gawked. Todd was using a no-nonsense tone with him. Up until now, Lance didn't even know Todd **had** a no-nonsense tone. "Okay," he muttered after a brief staring contest. "We'll talk in the morning. You and... Sara... sleep tight..."   
Lance started to stagger off to bed. "Wait?" came Todd's voice. "Lance? Could you please... nevermind, yo."   
The older boy's head appeared in the doorway. "Yeah?"   
"Get us some water?" Todd finished sheepishly. "She needs it more than I. Goin' through her first shedding."   
Lance immediately winced. "Oh hell. That's gotta be rough. She's like you?"   
Todd was too exhausted and worried to take offense at the way that had sounded. "Yeah, I guess you can say we're from the same family, or branch or whatever."   
"Yeah. I'll go downstairs and get a couple of glasses."   
"Nah, don't bother with downstairs. Fill this up." Todd handed over the undertow mug. Lance boggled at it.   
"She drank how many of these already?"   
"I'm not sure, but not enough. You know how **I** get."   
Sara was trying to form a sentence. "Pleased to m-meet..." She struggled to think of what came after. Her mind was clearly muddled. Todd put a cool hand against her flushed skin.   
"Don't worry, Lance's cool without a formal intro. Yo can talk in the morning. Just relax, sugarlips." His words probably fell on deaf ears, but it felt good to reassure her.   
Lance took one look at Sara, then at Todd's tired but wary features and knew sleep wasn't coming for the younger boy tonight. "You skipping tomorrow?"   
"Probly. Don't got nothin' of importance to do." He yawned and muffled himself with a free elbow. Idly he looked over at the screen. Big Blue was still online but he'd been quiet. Maybe some other emergency had come up.   
Lance returned with a brimming mug of water. Todd made Sara drink at least five inches before stealing a few gulps for himself. Lending body heat was dehydrating work. "Thanks," he breathed, noticing Lance was still watching them. "Yo a lifesaver."

* * *


	12. 12

  
"Sara Louise (hic) Adrien," she sobbed. "...'s my name..."   
"Aw man... I'm sorry, hon. I got confused."   
"It's okay," she squeaked. "I test high on forgettability..." her voice dwindled into a squeak and she crumpled against him again.   
His skin was so **cool**. He was soft and he wanted to hold her. But that didn't stop her crying. She was in deep sobs, now. The sort that were soundless but for the various attempts to breathe.   
The occasional squeak escaped her as her breath hissed out.   
She was trapped in her own misery.   
"Shh... Shhh..." Todd kissed her, holding her close. "It's okay, baby. It's gonna be okay."   
"...i don' wanna hurt anybody..." she managed. "...i **like** th' li'l birds t' fly..."   
Todd began to rock her. "It's okay. You can leave the birds alone if ya wanna."   
Cuckoo!   
"There's th' doc. What's he sayin'? 'Eyes may still have scale remnants near th' optic nerve.' Yo' got any of that eyewash stuff?"   
Sara nodded. "Medkit. Down near th' bottom."   
"Bottom?"   
She sniffed. "Of m' bag." 

Todd brushed her face and kissed her. "I'm'a get it, hon. You hang on, 'kay?" He dived over to the bag. He tried to haul it over to her, but couldn't pick it up. Never mind, he un-packed it in situ until he found something with a red cross on it.   
"Here it at," he cried. He opened it on her lap. Lots of gauze and mysterious tubes, bottles and sachets. He found the eye cup and put it in her trembling hands. "Which one's th' eye stuff?"   
Sara reached automatically for a largeish bottle under the top layer. A generous, practiced squirt and she filled the thing.   
"Yo, you done this befo'..."   
"I'm rather accident prone." She placed the cup on her eye and tipped her head backwards. "Neee... ow... ack, it burns..."   
Todd read the lable. "Ain't this th' stuff they use to wash contacts?"   
"Yeah. It's a very good eyewash, too." She tipped herself back down. "Something's moving in there..." She blinked, stretched her eye at the corner.   
Something milky and white appeared on her bottom lid.   
Todd carefully flicked it out. It was a ragged circle-like shape with a neat hole in the middle. "Whoah."   
"At least we know it works."   
"Hey, yo' over yo' shakes!" Todd grinned.   
"Not quite, dear. I put them away so I could handle this. I'll get back to gibbering annon."   
"Please don't think like that?" he begged.

Sara put the cup over her other eye and bent herself backwards over the chair.   
Krickledy-kract-pop-snap-krakle went her back.   
"Yo, that's **gotta** hurt."   
"Nah. Happens all the time. I can snap every joint in my body if I want to."   
"Dare you to do it near Pietro," Todd laughed. "Dude'll have a fit."   
Her eye was burning in the chemicals. She could stand it for another few. "I like to think I'm not that mean, despite my subconscious impulses to eat live prey."   
"Uh. What?"   
"I dreamed of eating **birds** last night."   
"**Oh**..." said Todd.   
Sara straightened up and removed both cup and leftover scale. "Nnngggh... That has to be the single most peculiar sensation ever."   
Todd was typing. Sara peered over his shoulder.

FrogPrince: Eyewash did the trick. Huzzah   
BigBlue: V Good. Monitor over the next few hours. Be alert for extra mucous or rapid swelling. Bathe for former, ice for latter   
FrogPrince: K

"Ask him what works when calamine doesn't," said Sara.   
Todd handed her the keyboard. "Go fo' it, hon. You need t' know what to expect.

FrogPrince: Is Sara, borrowing KB. Calamine not helping some lge irritations on back   
BigBlue: What's the sensation?   
FrogPrince: Prickly-heat plus crawliness plus raw skin plus pins and needles. Ick.

"**Ow**... Mah po' honeybuns..." Todd soothed her skin with his hands.

BigBlue: Tried that aloe stuff for sunburns?   
FrogPrince: Trying now.

Sara dived into her medkit and liberated another bottle of blue gunk. A generous squeeze into her palm went right under the back of her shirt.   
Ah, cool relief. "Oooooohhhhh... Oh **yeah**."   
Somewhere outside, someone had a conniption involving every metal object in the house.   
"That's what yo' get fo' eavesdroppin', Pie," Todd yelled. "Ass."

* * *

Todd grumbled some more at Pie and rubbed some of the sunburn lotion a bit further down her back. Sara blushed as his hand went up under the back of her shirt. He hadn't asked. Todd froze, realizing what he was doing.   
"Sh - sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't even **ask**." He looked like he was expecting a slap. Sara touched his face, gently.   
"You were thinking of making me feel better. I'm not ever going to hit you for that."   
"You'd be surprised, yo, what excuses people come up with." He remembered one time when Mystique had gotten sick. He'd walked into her room while she was half-awake to offer her a blanket and nearly got his arm twisted out of his socket.   
"You'd be surprised how many people balk at touching me. When I'm **healthy**. Right now I definitely qualify as an untouchable."(1)   
"Not to me you don't." Todd couldn't help but ask, "Do I?"   
Sara kissed him in response and released his lips from hers only at piercing stab in the back of her neck. "Ow, what was that?"   
Todd went around and looked. "Holy shit yo. Yo scales are... they're beautiful."   
"They're coming out? Now?"   
"Just here." Todd stroked one small patch on the back of her neck, smoothing the disks down and gently freeing the skin. "I guess cause the layer of skin is so thin near the bone. Places you got more skin an' muscle might take longer."   
Sara started typing.

FrogPrince: A couple of my scales have come out. Todd says they're beautiful.   
FrogPrince: Why do I feel like a mommy?   
Big Blue: lol! Congratulations. ;) What do they look like?

(1) the very bottom caste of the Indian caste system.

* * *

"What **do** they look like?" Sara rubbed at her knuckles, trying to peel away the old skin there.   
"Yo, this one's icy green... This one's a kinda blue... Yo, this one's the colour o' them green beer bottles."   
Sara revealed a cluster of four on a knuckle. The old skin peeled away, but stayed attached firmly to the rest. They were tiny, really, close together and as bright as uncut gems. Where a small mole had been, there was now one in lapis-lasuli blue. The others were varying shades of aqua.

FrogPrince: I think I'm going to be largely green-blue. they're varying between pale and dark greens, blues, and everything in-between.

"Ack! Mom! She's going to be worried," Sara blurted.   
"Huggle-bumps... I don't think she miss you that much."   
"All the same, I still need a good excuse." She bought out her cellular and began dialling. "I'll call Roy. He'll be out of the flack range."   
"Roy?"   
"Uh..." Sara bit her lip. "We kinda have a butler." She blushed. When she told people about her family's affluence, they usually started treating her like a human bank and got upset when she didn't have money to spare. "And a cook. And a maid. And a gardener..."   
Todd took it in his stride. "Hey, it's coo'. Yo' don't need no dragons, aight?"   
"My old grammar tutors would have a **field** day with you, darling."   
Todd just grinned.   
"Adrien residence?" said Roy.   
"**Roy**... I am **so** glad you picked up. Can you tell Mom I'm working on a project with Freddy? Tell her it's extra credit. For..." she blushed. "Biology."   
She could hear Roy smile. "I **see**... Good luck with your - endeavors. And remember restraint."   
_Translation: Have fun with your young man - but not **too** much fun._ "Thanks, Roy. You're a dear." She hung up, bright pink and gigglish.   
Todd was grinning. "Biology, anh?" He made a complicated gesture. "Yo, you my **bad** girl."   
Sara couldn't help hiding her face in both hands as she giggled and blushed.

Meanwhile...   
Hank flipped through his books. Aqua scales, were they? Fascinating. According to the available information, she was a class twelve shapeshifter with minor regenerative capabilities. Her skin may even respond to rough treatment by thickening up into some kind of armour.

BigBlue: Feeling better? I'm here if you need to unburden.

He leaned back and sipped his brew and waited. And waited. And waited...   
What were they **doing** over there?

* * *

"Yo cute when you laugh," Todd grinned. Sara giggled harder but shook her head.   
"You don't think I sound like a committed chipmunk on crystal meth?"   
"Naw," Todd answered back, straight faced. Then he lost his composure and fell over sideways onto the bed. His laughter was just a bit on the nasal side, but contagious. Soon both of them were rendered helpless for no clear reason.   
Sara stopped laughing only when her throat developed a tickle that would not be coughed away. She took another long draught from her mug.   
Todd sat up and scooched next to her. While she drank he busied himself with brushing a few elbow scales free of their dead skin covering. Sara thrummed appreciatively, and by the time she put down the water Todd's fingers were stroking her arm in intricate patterns. She studied him for a moment, watching his amber eyes focused adoringly on her body, following the movement of his hand as it trailed down to her hand.   
Sara leaned down and kissed his jaw in a non-distractive way, allowing him to maintain as much focus as possible on his loving task. She didn't want him to stop; ever. It felt... **right**. Some other part of her that seemed long ago and far away might have blushed to death, but she was far too happy to die now.   
That wasn't to say she no longer doubted her actions; her heart fluttered as she kissed Todd again. This time under the jaw, on the neck. His skin was soft, beautiful. Somewhat dryer than might be normal, but it felt cool to the touch. Sara wanted more of it and that thought scared her. Her eyes sought safer territory and met his eyes. He returned her gaze calmly, but though his hand did not stop stroking patterns on her skin, it trembled and hesitated for the briefest of moments.   
Both were too afraid to speak. Neither knew what to **say**. Being loved was such a novel experience and it was too much. Overwhelming. Sara felt the boxes in her mind start to quake a bit. They wanted to open, to spill everything out onto Todd. They wanted him to make it okay. She did too, but what if they were wrong? What if she talked too much and scared him away? _Not yet,_ she told them. Ever obedient, they kept their lids on firmly.   
Sara didn't want to deal with it anyway, even if there was some remote chance Todd **could** make it all better. The boxes became unimportant, almost non-existent. She could see the future in his eyes.   
It was full of sandy-haired children with green eyes and scales tackling each other and trying to outjump their father. When they failed, of course, they demanded free froggy-back rides and defiantly turned invisible when he dared to claim tiredness.   
She chuckled softly, now back in the present. He smiled back, the light in his eyes speaking of what he'd seen in hers.

* * *

She could weather the pain of the scales' final emergence. It was only like being stabbed with a sharp pencil. Sara had had plenty of those wounds in her time.   
Todd, she couldn't help noticing, was flaking, too.   
She carefully pulled at a strip of skin until she met resistance. "Does it - hurt for you?"   
"Naw. Not any mo'." He took over pulling the ghostlike veil from his face and neck. The skin underneath was a pale, pale green that quickly darkened to his usual sallow hue. "I mean, sure, th' first coupla times were pretty rough, yo. Itched like fury, but it hurt like a bad sunburn." He shrugged. "Idunno. Either I got used to it or-- you okay?"   
She must have been wincing. "Five patches at once down my spine. Ooof."   
"Ow... poor baby," he soothed. "I used t' find a cold shower kinda helped."   
"How about **more** showers?"   
"Shaddup, Tabby."   
She didn't. "The fuck you doing with Essel the Perv?"   
"Hey, just because **you** can't lock a bathroom stall--"   
"Just because **you** always walk **in** on me, dumbass..." She lobbed a little glowing ball at her.   
Sara reacted instinctively, batting it back where, shockingly, it exploded in the blonde's face.   
"**HEY**!"   
Todd cracked up. "Whassamatta? Can dish it out but yo' can't take it?"   
Tabby gave him a dangerous glare, decided that she had to be elsewhere, and stomped off in a huff.   
Sara still had both hands over her mouth.   
Todd prised her fingers away.   
"I'msorry, Ididn'tmeanit..." spilled out of her mouth. "It was an instinct. Something gets thrown at you, you bat it away... better my hands than my shirt... **UNH**. Ow." She hissed. Now she was getting cramps under her skin. She rubbed at the hurt on the back of her hand.   
Freddy poked his head in, "I got dinner an' I did some washin' up so there's even clean plates."   
"...definitely a hazmat team," Sara muttered. "Todd... is your room some kind of public thoroughfare?"   
"It must be **today**," he said. "I oughta sell tickets. Or show you th' spare room."

It was, as he'd advertized, not much. There was never a bedframe. Just a mattress and a couple of boxes of random crap. And a sheet with little duckies on it.   
"I know, it ain't a lot, but at least it ain't trash, right?"   
Sara put her bag down. "It'll suffice for sleeping. Not that I think much of that will be done." She hissed and rubbed at another spot. "I think my skin's cramping."   
Todd couldn't do much for that, and it hurt to watch her hurting. It also hurt to see her get that strange, blank look - almost as if she wasn't herself - for a couple of seconds before returning to normal. Whatever she was doing when she did that, he could tell it wasn't healthy.   
And there'd been that weird moment when a whole world of hurt had turned up in her eyes... then vanished into the eery blank look. Todd ached to ask her what was up... but daren't. The poor kid had enough troubles with the scales.   
Indeed, Sara was looking ragged in more ways than one. Parts of her skin had split, revealing gemlike, tiny scales underneath, but it clung fast and was too thick to rip, so it hung off her in tatters. Her colour - where she was still pinkish - wasn't good. She'd gone very, very pale.   
"Maybe you should - y'know... have some dinner an' take somethin' to help yo sleep?" he suggested. "Yo're already havin' a rough time... Sleepin' it off's better'n bein' awake."   
"Better than," corrected Sara. "I'm going to need the energy, yes. Dinner and an antihistamine. Lovely."   
"What? No painkillers?"   
"Asprin makes me sick," she said. "Paracetamol kills the pain but makes me slightly whack. Ibuprofen just makes me see things, and Nurofen just plain doesn't work. And I overreact to sedatives."   
"Yo' kiddin' me."   
"Seriously. Mom gave me a sleeping pill once?" she said. "She meant well. I needed to be rested up for the competition... Anyway, when she checked on me, I wasn't breathing."   
"Whoah."   
"It was, apparently, a very scary five hours in ER." Sara shrugged, absently holding his hand on the way back to the kitchen. "I don't even remember the time between tuck-in and life support. It's very weird waking up and finding out that a machine is helping you breathe."   
Todd made a tiny little strangled noise.   
"Don't worry about it, dear. I'm fine **now**."   
"Yo, what frikkin' competition, doll?" he begged. "It shoulda been on the news."   
"Oh, it was. I was three years old at the time. Little Miss Bayville charity beauty pageant. Ironically, we were funding a campaign against animal testing for makeup."   
"Day-umn, yo." He shook his head. "Where have you **been**?"   
"Lots of boarding schools. Some national competitions back when I was still cute enough to win prizes... you know how it goes."   
Todd appeared confused. "I do?"   
"It is the duty of a daughter to make her mother proud. A duty I rather failed when I was six and won 'best effort' instead of anything near first prize. I try... but all I am is trying." Twitch. Blankness. And then Sara was back. "Sorry, dear. You don't need to hear about it."   
"Somebody's gotta," he said.

* * *


	13. 13

  
"If I wanted to torture someone with my problems, I wouldn't pick on you. Seems you have enough problems," started Sara. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of a smirking Pietro leaning against the wall adjacent to the kitchen entrance.   
"Heya, Essel. Stayin' for dinner?" He caught sight of Essels' scales and loose skin. "EWWW! Did ya come down here to make me sick?"   
"Go stare in the mirror s'more. You ain't happy enough yet," Todd snapped and escorted Sara past into the kitchen. He glanced up at her. She was doing 'it' again... the empty look in her eyes gave it away.   
"Hey, Sara, you want grilled cheese with your soup?" Fred asked. All they had left were twenty-cent cans of soup, wonderbread, and Velveeta cheese.   
"What on earth?" Sara prodded the loaf of Velveeta with one finger. "I wasn't aware plastic cheese existed."   
Pietro was on her in milliseconds. "If you don't like it, don't eat it! Who invited you for dinner anyway?"   
As usual, Sara returned rudeness with civil manners. "I never said I didn't like it. Just that it was odd."   
"An' if you must know, I invited her," Todd piped in.   
"And so did I," thundered Freddy, brandishing his spatula in a threatening manner.   
"The bread's burning," Pietro retorted, taking a step backwards nevertheless. Freddy turned back to the stove, grumbling. Pietro decided he would rather claim the remote before Tabby did and sped to the living room.   
"Sorry about him, sweetheart. He's territorial."   
"I figured."   
Freddy fixed both of them plates of grilled cheese and tomato soup to take upstairs. Todd carried the sandwhiches while Sara amazed Todd by carrying both bowls of soup up the stairs without making the surface so much as ripple. "Lady Favisham's was all about daintiness and good form. No wonder I dropped out. Figuring out silverware placements and not spilling the soup were about the only things I didn't perform miserably."   
Sara's eye twitched ever so slightly as she placed the bowls on the table inside of the spare room. Todd put the sandwiches down close by and shut the door. "Yo, it's all cool," he said gently. "That must've been a very boring school. At least it's behind you."   
"Only because I was expelled."   
"Oh." Todd blinked, not quite knowing what to say. Sara didn't seem the **type** to get expelled.   
Sara sat down and picked up a sandwich. "No big surprise. Mom always did have high expectations of me. It's money she'll never get back and she doesn't hesitate to remind me whenever I ask for something. That's when I learned to earn my own allowance."   
"Shit, yo. That ain't fair."   
"Maybe not," admitted Sara, "But it does make sense. I cost her money that she can't get back, so I shouldn't really ask for any more."   
"No, no, she's the one who forced you to do something you didn't want."   
"Didn't want? If I was any **good** at it, maybe I would have enjoyed it. I flunked. I didn't try hard enough." Sara bit into the sandwich. She blinked. "Plastic cheese tastes good when melted. THIS is the stuff!" she exclaimed, waving the sandwhich at Todd with sudden enlightenment.   
Utterly confused at the sudden change in subject, and unsure whether he should bring it back - the boy tilted his head to the side.   
"Ray made it for me once over some pasta I hated and had to eat. Company was present. Mom wanted me to clean my plate. The pasta she wanted served had the ickiest sauce ever. It was the color of cheese, but tasted like apricots and mayonaisse. Ray fixed me a cheese sauce and brought some out for me. I think I found out what he melted down." Todd was looking lost and somewhat bewildered. Oh dear.   
"Sorry. I tend to go off like that a lot."   
Todd smiled and gave a little shrug. "Hey, always glad to hear of a happy memory. Go off as much as you want." _Rant, rave, babble. I don't care, yo. If it helps you to talk, then **talk**. I'm always here._

* * *

Sara went crimson. It was, as she tended to joke, her default response. "I'm afraid I might have to reorganise your lounge room and kitchen at the very least, tomorrow," she said. "Even if I'm half-crippled, I **have** to be able to see the floor in there. And the benchtops, for that matter." She shuddered as a mass of cramps came over her. Ugh. After all this, she should find childbirth a snap.   
Todd kind-of cringed. "We kind of got behind everything. It was always someone else's job an'... y'know... Ya don't gotta."   
Sara giggled. "You've yet to understand the soul of an obsessive tidier, dear. I'm - compelled, almost, to pick up a snow shovel and start bailing."   
"Uh. Some of our stuff's in there y'know."   
"All the more reason to help me out," Sara grinned around her pains. "The last time I had to hazmat a place, I taped garbage bags to the windows and just shovelled things-- **unh**..."   
"Yo, you better eat up, hon," Todd encouraged. "Li'l nutrition... lotta sleep. Do yo' good."   
They weren't just sharp, now. They **burned**. Sara could see the wisdom of sleeping through it. "Yes, dear," she muttered. "My plans to take over your living zone can await elementary treatment."   
Todd took her sandwich-holding hand and waved it under her nose. "**Eat** first."   
Sara took an obedient bite. "I'm sorry if I'm interfering, but I feel I have to do **something** to repay for my visit. Sooner or later, I'll be a burden. It happens."   
"Sweetie?" Todd begged. "Quit lettin' yo' Mom do the talkin', okay? It ain't good fo' yo'."   
Sara made herself eat some more. "Give me a while," she said. "I've been thrown out of more places than I care to count. I believe my record was -uh- two months."   
"I still don't think yo' the type to get expelled, sweetums."   
"You **want** the litany?"   
"Sho'. Enlighten me."   
Sara took a breath. "I started at Lady Favisham's at age four. I was expelled at the tender age of eight... I believe the charge was 'conducting Pagan rituals'. It involved woad and flowers. My next school was Mistress Tildworth's, where I lasted precisely four months. I had too much fun with Latin for everyone's own good. After that, I spent a spell at Ms Elizabeth Kranchick's School for Young Ladies. A three month spell. Next on the list was The Reverend Jacob's Strength Through Righteousness School for Young Ladies - my famous two-month record. The Head Girl took more than a fair shine to me. I blacked her eye and ruined her orthadonty."   
Todd's mouth was hanging open.   
"Did I mention that I was wasn't yet nine years old at the time?"   
"Someone made a **move** on yo'?" he yawped.   
"Yo, frog-breath," came Tabby's distant shout. "We don't wanna know about Essel gettin' lucky!"   
"Her name's Sara **Adrien**, yo! Not Adrian Essel!"   
"Fuck you anyway!"   
Todd sighed. "Sorry about her. You said sumpin' about Ben Gay in her shorts?"   
"Becoming more and more of a temptation as time passes, dear," said Sara. She munched on more of her sandwich. "Do you want to hear about the rest of them?"   
"There's more?"   
"Oh yes," she chirped, feeling slightly punchdrunk. "I **said** it was a litany." She hissed at another rash of scales. "After that was Professor Martinson's School for unpaid white-collar labor - oops... I mean - School for Technological Learning. I lasted a little bit over the two months' record, there. Then there was Grafingle's Academy for special learning - my scholastic records, you know... They sort of doomed me. I lasted six months there before being shoved bodily into Filis' Institute for Academic Correction. I broke their counsellor at the end of **that** year... Then there was Babel Towers, where I lasted two years before I nearly blew up the chem lab."   
"**DAY**umn..." coughed Todd.   
"Montague Acres, one year," Sara began ticking them off on her fingers, in-between bites of her dinner. "Saquenaya private school, two years... and after a whole bunch of counselling - here at dear old Bayville. The two-year anniversary of my admission is coming up, so you may want to be wary of fireworks."   
Todd was shaking his head. "Yo, that is **whack**... I mean - yo' so **nice**. How'd you get thrown outta so many places?"   
Twitch. "Mother asks me exactly the same thing."   
"Sorry, sugarlips," he said, "but I'm dyin' o' curiosity over here."   
Sara shoved the last of her sandwich in her mouth, chewing as daintily as one could under the circumstances. "I think," she announced, "that the key ingredient was boredom. My mind wanders when I'm bored, you see... and I think up these **experiments**."   
"Like?" he prompted.   
"What would happen if I got the school computers to all act like HAL from 2001?"   
Todd cracked up.   
"Or mayhap, 'Is it **true** about ordinary household chemicals?' or 'This hallway is always **wet**, so perhaps I should draw it to more obvious attention'... That one resulted in indoor ice capades on a lovely July afternoon."   
Todd thumped their table in his paroxysms of laughter. Then he stopped cold. "Whoa. Wait, wait, wait. **July**?"   
"I always **said** the air conditioning in that place was something else. I just happened to prove it."

Todd winced with her, the very next time she moved to protect an area of pain around her ribs. He literally leaped over to her bag and produced the medkit. "I know this has got whatever yo' need, babycakes. Take it, yo."   
"Thank you dear, but I need to get changed, first. When I said they knock me out, they knock me **out**."   
"**Oh**." Todd went beet red for a change. "I'll just - uh..." he gestured at the hall. "I'll just -er- I'll just guard th' door."   
She kissed him. Slow, sweet and gentle. "Thank you, darling. You're the sweetest gentleman I've ever met."   
Todd's feet didn't touch the floor until he hit Pietro and Tabby in the hallway.   
Both had their arms folded across their chests. Though in Tabby's case, it was done so as to accentuate her bosom.   
"You're the sweetest gentleman I've ever met," mocked Pietro. "**Jesus**..."   
"Hey, I thought yo' were Jewish."   
"Lapsed years ago," he said. "And that's beside the **point**, swamp-shorts."   
"What the hell is up with you and Essel?" said Tabby. "You **have** a real woman right here, you know."   
"Yeah, if I like soakin' my thing in Lysol," Todd muttered. "Her name's **Sara**, yo."   
"This is pretty much fucked up, right here," said Tabby. "You and a **transie**?"   
"She's a **GIRL**, dumbass," Todd was trying desperately to keep his voice down, to give Sara the illusion of privacy. "Born female, **is** female, goddamn it. Just shut up!"   
"Yeah yeah yeah," said Pietro. "He's a female on the inside. What. Ever. What I don't get is why he has such a thing for **you**." He preened. "**I'm** obviously the one everybody desires."   
"Wait. You **want** a transie lustin' after yo'?" Todd wondered. "How fucked up is that?"   
"So he **is** a transie!" Tabby crowed.   
"I never said that!" Pietro went pink. "It's just that I'm obviously superior and you're obviously not."   
"SARA IS NOT A TRANSIE, GODDAMN IT!" Todd screamed. Then he realized what he'd done and clapped his hands over his mouth. "...ohfuck..."   
"It's all right, dear," said Sara, behind him. She'd opened the door to watch the fight. "I'm quite used to rampant and erroneous speculation from my..." her glare raked over Tabby as if looking right through her, "contemporaries."   
Tabby gave her the finger.   
"Ah yes," Sara grinned. "Always the automatic response from the slow of mind." Both her hands were occupied in holding an oversized shirt down at the hem. It was pink and several years out of style, and bore the face of Hello Kitty. "Todd, dearest, I'm going to need about a swallow's worth of water. Any more and there's going to be a bit of a mess."   
"Washing your falsies?" sniped Pietro. "Don't bother covering up. Nobody wants to look at **you**."   
"I can name at least three people. How about you?" Sara challenged.   
"Shaddup and fuck off," said Todd. "Both of ya." He ushered Sara back into her temporary room. "Just ignore 'em, hon. I'll be back wit' some water soon."   
"...mi mi mi mi mi mimi mi..." echoed Pietro as Todd hopped past.   
_That does it. I'm sliming his hair gel._ He found a clean glass and half filled it from the tap. What in hell was a 'swallow' of water, anyway? He shook his head and gave the finger to Pie-pie and Tabby on his way back.   
"Hey, if he's with a transie, does that mean he's 'dick-whipped'?"   
"Maybe it's 'future-pussy-whipped'?" speculated Pietro.   
Todd fumed internally but said nothing.   
Sara had arranged herself on the mattress, the duckie sheet covering her legs and hips. A small pill rested in one hand. "Ah. Thank you."   
Pill into mouth. One swallow. Two. She very carefully attempted to put the glass down--   
And went out like a candle.   
Fft.   
Just like that, she lapsed from consciousness into an apparent coma. The glass of water spilled on the floor as she fell into the mattress.   
"Damn," he said. "You **weren't** kiddin'." He pulled the sheet up to cover most of her, then straightened her hair and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, sweetie." He did his best to mop up most of the spill with his over-vest. He could deal with being a little chilly for one evening. Then he had to face a decision.   
Guard her all night, or risk having her ransacked and who **knew** what else by Pie-pie?   
As it turned out, Freddy was in the hall, instead of Pietro and Tabby.   
"It's okay," said the giant boy. "You need sleep, too."   
So she had two grotty guardian angels on her side, at least. Lance didn't really want to care, and preferred to leave it alone and as for the other two...   
Meh. They could go fuck 'emselves.   
Only when in the privacy of his own room, digging Kermie out of his hiding place, did Todd realize how rotten **he** actually felt.   
How **about** that?

* * *

"So like I said, if he's a she, I'd be getting quite a bit more attention than Tolensky," Pietro concluded for about the fifth time that night. Lance was already irritated and **trying** to work on a new song. Pietro's rant about Essel was just throwing off his groove.   
First of all, he didn't want to think about Essel. Second, he definitely didn't want to think about Todd and Essel together. And thirdly, Pietro complaining that Essel should go after him instead of Todd was just plain WRONG and it was bringing the previous two subjects up again.   
"Why don't you go whine to someone who cares?" Lance asked, idly strumming a chord. "Todd's business isn't yours."   
"Maybe not, but don't you at least agree? There is no frikkin' way Essel can be a girl! I would have noticed!"   
"Just wondering. You remember that guy at the Gut Bomb walking past you? He bumped into you and said 'Pardon me, ma'am?' You nearly had a heart attack."   
Pietro glared. "WHAT does that have to do with anything?"   
"Everything. Just because a girl is a girl doesn't mean she's gotta wear short skirts and wonder bras. If you could pass as a flat-chested broad at Gut Bomb, Essel could pass as a boy in a public high school. And maybe he has tried to correct everyone, maybe he or she just doesn't give a damn. Makes sense to me."   
Pietro was sputtering. "Are you saying you believe Toad?! Look at Essel... there is no way with THAT hair and THAT . . ." Pietro almost said 'flat chest' and decided for argument's sake, to skip over it. "Utter lack of feminine accessories, clothes, or whatever, that Essel could be a girl!"   
"So now you're saying females are only identifyable by hair, knockers and accessories? I wonder how many drag queens **you've** gone out with lately."   
"Shut up!!!" Pietro ranted, face turning pink. "Essel's not a girl, end of discussion."   
"Good. That means you'll leave me alone now?"   
"Rrrrrrr! Fine!" Lance felt a sudden breeze and the door slammed upstairs. Fred could be heard shouting for Pietro to keep it down. Lance sighed and set down his guitar.   
"Fred?" he asked upon reaching the top of the stairs. "Aren't you going to sleep?"   
"Someone's gotta make sure nobody bothers her. Toad didn't look so well."   
Lance grimaced. "That time of month?"   
"Think so. I told him to go to bed."   
"Good. What about you? We've got school tomorrow. Can't stay up all night."   
"I can least stay up 'til everyone else's asleep," argued Freddy. "Pietro sleeps like the dead."   
And Tabby, once snoring, wouldn't be woken before six if the Bayville marching band paraded through her room. Toad usually was up before then, especially when shedding. Lance couldn't count the number of times he'd woken to the sound of retching in the bathroom before five.   
He glanced at his watch. It was half past ten. "At least try for midnight."   
Lance walked downstairs to find his guitar in Tabby's lap. She broke into caterwaul as soon as Lance stepped back in the living room.   
"Am I not pretty enoooough? Is my heart too broookeeeen? Do I cry too muuuuuch? Am I too outspooookeeen - HEY!" Tabby cried as Lance yanked away the instrument.   
"There's plenty of feral cats in heat around the boarding house if I want to listen to **their** yowling," Lance snapped.   
"Fuck you!" Tabby threw a bomb which bounced off Lance's guitar into the wastebasket. Acting on pure instinct, Lance kicked the basket and it rolled toward Tabby's retreating legs.   
**BANG!**   
"AAAGHCHRISTFUCKITTOHELL!" Tabby screamed, jumping three feet in the air from pain and surprise. "Twice in one fuckin' night!"   
She flipped Lance off over her shoulder and stalked into the downstairs bathroom to inspect her wounds.

Todd moaned and curled around Kermie, holding the stuffed frog against his stomach as if it could relieve his pain. It felt like his stomach was chewing on his nerve endings. He hoped it didn't try to send back the meal he'd last eaten. Cautiously, he touched a sweaty palm to his upper arm. Everything was dry and flaky with sharp pieces that hurt if he brushed against them the wrong way. The itch wasn't unbearable yet, but it was building up for a doozy. What he needed in his room was a freakin' tree to rub against.   
And how the hell did a person manage to be hot and cold at the same time? Soon as he kicked off the covers making him sweaty, his feet would start freezing and the cold feeling would move up to his legs and shoulders. He'd burrow back under, convinced being too warm was better than being too cold. He was never gonna get any sleep this way.   
Todd closed his eyes and tried to distract himself. While it was hard to sleep now, it would be impossible later. He had to take what he could get. Besides, if he passed out from exhaustion, who'd protect Sara? Freddy wouldn't be around tomorrow, and Pietro could cut school for ten minute breaks of harassment whenever he felt like it.   
Todd forced himself to close his eyes and not move. Beads of sweat tickled unmercifully down his face and back, irritating the parting skin. He groaned softly, but didn't move. At last he felt the curtain of heavy sleep come across him, separating him from his tormented senses. He dove into it gratefully, imagined himself sinking into a deep pond of cool soothing water.   
His body wasn't very happy being left behind with no-one to make suffer, so it set about preparing the mother of all cramps with which to wake up him in the morning.   
But until then, Todd could dream about Sara all he wanted.

* * *

Sara moaned, rolled over, and awoke, just as dawn was beginning to colour the sky. One thing to say about no-brand, non-drowsy antihistamines - they certainly did **not** live up to their labelling.   
Her dreams had been vague and slightly musical. A piece from Avril Levine had sneaked into her head somehow, and she hummed it under her breath as she sought a place for her sunbathing.   
The backyard, fenced in and secluded by neighbouring shrubbery, would do.   
Sara skinned out of her ill-fitting shirt and slipped out of her undies. Her loose skin flapped around her like strange, beige pennants, and pulled uncomfortably at her skin.   
The sun was a perfect balm.

Someone was singing. It wasn't too bad. Clear voice. Held a tune.   
The choice of song could have been better, though.   
The only thing wrong was that the singing was happening at bumblefuck in the morning.   
Pietro, despite boasts to the contrary, was a slow mover when woken up from his usual near-coma. "...nnrrrrrrggh..." he muttered, stumbling to his feet. "I'm'a fin'na bast'rd whose singin' an' rip out their fuckin' windpipe..."   
He could distinguish words, now. He was getting close.   
"...gloop glooby, nibby nabba nooby lalala low low... Sabba sibby saba..."   
There was Essel's Hello Kitty nightshirt. There was Essel's underpants. Little pink daisy pattern.   
_OmiGod... Essel wears girlie underpants._   
And there was Essel. Naked as the day he was born, facing the sun and dancing to the music inside his head.   
Shocked into full wakefulness, Pietro took a quick tour.   
All right.   
Okay.   
Nobody could tuck **and** stand like that without some kind of glue.   
_Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit fuckketty shitty shit shit **DAMN**!_   
He was next aware of watching Essel - no, Adrien. Sara Adrien was her name. Her name. **HER** name.   
Adrien was taping a gigantic garbage bag to the kitchen window and furling it so that it hung outside. Next was the repetative movements of scraping various things out into the bag.   
She was clearing out the sink.   
Someone had paid the bills to such an extent that they had heat **and** water, so Sara filled the sink with hot, soapy water. Still humming under her breath.   
Pietro's brain supplied the words.   
_Am I not pretty enough... Is my heart too broken... Do I cry too much... Am I too outspoken..._   
Somewhere, he was certain, there was a mutant who just heard his cerebellum fuse.

* * *


	14. 14

  
The mother of all cramps made a wakeup call at precisely 5:34 am. Todd's reaction was to grab his pillow and press it to his mouth while his body curled into a ball. He waited patiently for it to pass, too used to this routine to hope for a fast recovery. The cramp continued steadily for ten seconds and then broke off into pulses. Todd knew better than to move.   
Once free from pain enough to move, Todd was allowed to focus on the nausea. He had mere seconds to make it to the bathroom. His feet hit the ground unevenly and he banged his shoulder against the doorframe on the way out. Todd made it with barely enough time to slam the bathroom door behind him.   
"Aw, jeezus, puke quieter!" he heard someone complain down the hallway as he gulped for air. Todd flushed before the barf smell could make him sicker. He leaned against the sink and splashed his face with cool water. His hands felt scaly and rough, but they felt good going across his face.   
What he needed now was a shower, but he was going to have to go back to his room for his clothes and then find a clean towel somewhere. His body didn't want to move that much, but it did want to be soothed, so it let Todd stand up and walk back to his room.   
He didn't expect to see Pietro standing in the hallway, listening at Sara's door.   
"What the FUCK are you doin'?"   
Pietro jumped. "Oh."   
"I don't care. Just get the fuck away and leave her alone."   
Quickie didn't move. Now he was staring at Todd. "Did... did you...? How could you tell? Lucky guess?"   
"Huh?" Todd was in no mood for babble. "I don't CARE what yo' doin', I said get the fuck away from her door, foo."   
Oblivious to anyone else's discomfort save his own, Pietro got directly into Todd's face. "Hey, YOU'RE the one who brought this freak to this house, and I for one would like some fuckin' answers. What kind of freak IS she?"   
"Oh, so she's a 'she' now?"   
"I SAW her. I saw EVERYTHING."   
It took a moment for it all to sink in.   
"Yo **spied** on her while she was **naked**?!" Todd growled dangerously quiet, all previous illness forgotten in favor of red-hot rage.   
"Ain't my fault she's a fuckin' exhibitionist--"   
"Yo punk ass is goin' DOWN!" Todd pounced before Pietro had any warning. Both went crashing to the floor and Pietro threw his hands up under a flurry of blows. He managed to grab Todd's wrists and tried to roll over and pin him, but the smaller boy wasn't having any of it. Todd and Pietro wrestled across the floor cursing loud enough to wake the dead. Lance's door burst open just in time to watch the quarreling mutants disappear over the top step. From there it was a long series of bumps and screams to the first floor.   
And even then it didn't stop. Pietro managed to get up, but only half way; Todd grabbed onto his legs and caused him to crash back down again. Lance cursed and jumped down the stairs two at a time to stop them. Pietro was alternately clawing Todd's face and hands, which were locked around his throat by the time Lance reached bottom. Lance grabbed Todd around the waist and lifted, shaking him until he let Pietro go - which was no easy feat.   
Lance dumped Todd onto the ground and planted his feet on either side of Todd's waist. This effectively pinned the boy in place and left Lance's hands free to keep Pietro away until this was settled. Pietro was currently curled up into a ball, massaging his throat and wheezing.   
"What," gasped Lance, "The hell did Pie do to make you freak out like that? Huh?"   
Todd was also gasping from effort, and shuddering as his body filed complaints for the heavy abuse it had taken to do battle. "He... he spied... pervert. On Sara." Todd was ready to add plenty more, but he'd depleted his energy resources. "Guh..." Todd's eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out on the floor.

* * *

Sara had adjourned from washing up to find the threatened snow shovel, then recalled that bare feet weren't the wisest thing to have when clearing out a mess of **this** magnitude. She had special collapsible boots for that kind of thing, somewhere in the depths of her bag. And some gloves.   
The rest would bide for a while, and it wasn't as if anyone actually **cared** what she looked like, right now.   
"Yo punk ass is goin' DOWN!" Todd shouted to someone outside. There were screams, thumps, crashes, and the unmistakable sound of live bodies tumbling down the stairs.   
The boots, for all their pliability, had amazing traction. She was out of the door in a second or less, snow shovel and work gloves still in her hand.   
There, at the bottom of the stairs, was Todd. Unconscious, bruised and battered. Leaning over him was none other than Lance Alvers, known thug.   
It was common knowledge that he beat up a large number of Remedial Ed. kids in order to gain their lunch money.   
Sara saw red.   
Some part of her that was still calm and rational watched the following events as if watching a movie through a fog.   
The shovel became a handy weapon.   
A hideous, shrieking ululation issued forth.   
The vision of Alvers' horrified face became larger as charging footsteps thundered in her ears with her heartbeat.   
"NowaitIdidn't--!"   
CLANNNNNNNNGGGGGGG!   
Vibrating metal transferred into the wooden handle and thence into her hands. Her vision included Maximoff, huddled on the floor. Close to Todd.   
Entirely. Too. Close.   
The shriek turned into a snarl.   
In retrospect, Pietro was extremely lucky that he had the wits to scrabble away. He was also lucky that Freddy arrived, sized up the situation, and neatly trapped Sara in a surprisingly gentle hug.   
As soon as Sara came back to herself, she stopped resisting outwardly, and fought that mighty rage down into a box inside her mind. It was still prone to fight, so she piled it over with some of the heavier boxes already sealed tight and fortified against outbreaks.   
When she opened her eyes, she was standing on her own two feet, Freddy hovering nearby. She still had a death-grip on the shovel.   
Todd was still out of it.   
She couldn't make herself let **go** of the shovel, darnit.   
Sara picked Todd up with her free hand, cradling him on her legs and the crook of her shovel-weilding arm.   
She was shaking.   
_Hand, be still,_ she commanded, forcing her hand into stability as it felt for Todd's pulse.   
Strong. Even. A little fast, perhaps, but strong and even were good signs.   
His breathing was even and clear. Pupils unresponsive.   
Mutant abilities, from what she was told, required an increase in energy intake. She had been craving far more protiens, herself, of late.   
And the fight... sudden energy expenditure in a time of metabolic need...   
Oh dear.   
"Freddy? Do you have any honey?"   
"Nope," he said with absolute certainty. "We don't got a lot of nuthin'."   
"You don't have much of anything, dear," she corrected. "That will not **do**. Freddy, I'll need my cellular. You know where I keep it." A remembered remark about feminine products made her glare at Pietro. "And I'm certain someone **ELSE** does, too."   
Pietro whimpered and attempted to cram himself further into the wainscotting.

Tabby woke up grumpy. First, someone was awake at fuckit-past-sparrow-fart in the morning and **SINGING**, for fuck's sake. Second, someone had had a minor fit up and down the hallways. **THEN** Todd fucking Tolensky had had to have his morning puke session until she'd had to yell at him to shut the hell up.   
And to top it all off, someone had evidently decided to declare a freakin' **WAR**.   
Tabby managed to stumble into her clothes and ricochetted off Freddy on her way down. There was no other word to describe the scene below but - scene.   
Essel was cradling Tolensky and hanging onto a snow shovel - of all things - and sending glares of death off at Alvers and Maximoff.   
Alvers was recovering his senses and sprouting a lovely goose-egg of a bruised lump on one temple.   
Essel's shovel had a Lance-sized dent in it.   
"This," Tabby announced, "Has **got** to be one **fuck** of a story."

* * *

Sara didn't even bother to answer her. She was watching Todd with a blank expression. Her mind was in another realm.   
Freddy returned with the cellular and not a moment too soon. Tabitha had grown tired of chanting "Earth to Eeeesseeellll, Essel phone home?" and was now prepared to toss a bomb to get a reaction out of **someone**.   
The thought had never crossed her mind to pester Alvers or Pietro for information, and they weren't about to offer themselves as distractions. Alvers was still moaning about goats eating his jeep. Freddy handed Sara the cell. He then stepped between her and Tabby to serve as a living bomb shelter.   
"Hey, Freddy! What's the big idea?"   
"She's gotta make a call. Shhhh!"   
"Whatever." Tabby pouted, but she was all ears.   
Beepboopboopbeepbeepboopbeep The call went through and was picked up after the first ring.   
"Bernie's Bargain Basement Delivery Service, how can I help you?"   
"Hi, this is Sara Adrien. I'm putting in an order. I need the Express delivery."   
"Allright ma'am, regular address?"   
"No, I'm at the Brotherhood Boarding House, 6426 Pikers Street." Damn, at least she **thought** that was accurate. "How fast can you get here?"   
"Within twenty minutes or free of charge. What do you need?"   
"I need Sue Bee Honey, Lysol Disenfectant spray - better make that three bottles..." Sara rattled off several more items including foodstuffs that Freddy wasn't swift enough to protest, then checked Todd's skin. "And calamine lotion. **Definitely**."   
"Will that be that all?"   
"Yes."   
"Delivery will be there soon. Have a nice day."   
"Thanks."   
Sara hung up and started to stand up, attempting successfully to juggle Todd, the shovel and the cell phone all at once. Fred helped her out by prying her fingers off the shovel. It was a far easier task than relieving her of Todd.   
"You can set yourself down on the couch while we wait."   
"No, Freddy. I have to get into something more presentable within fifteen minutes. They **say** twenty, but if Steve's behind the wheel and coming for me **here**, he's going to be exceeding highway speed limits. He worries too much."   
"Uh, who's Steve?"   
"He works there as a bagger and delivery boy. If it's him, you'll like him. He's a dear."   
"So you're really going to pay for all that stuff?" Tabby wanted to know.   
"Yes, is it such a surprising concept?" Sara replied, eyelashes fluttering.   
"Hey, fuck you!"   
"No thanks for the offer." Sara shifted Todd in her arms and began walking up the stairs.   
"Wait a second, you haven't even told me what's going on!" Sara kept walking. Tabby whirled on Lance who was just now recovering back to coherency. "What's going on, Lance?"   
"Uhhhh..."   
Fred sighed and helped Lance up. "Let's get some ice for ya." He walked Alvers to the kitchen.   
Pietro broke out of his whimpering state as soon as Sara reached the top of the staircase and disappeared around the corner. Tabby stared down at him expectantly.   
"Weeelllll?" she drawled, rolling two glowing time bombs around in her fingertips.

Sara arranged Todd on the mattress as comfortably as possible, then dabbed at his face with water.   
"Nnnhhhnnn..."   
"There we go. Come back to me." She planted a little kiss on his lips, and nestled her face into his shoulder. Two shuddering breaths later and she was up and donning loose sweatpants and a long sweater to hide the flaps of skin. She'd be hot and scratchy for a bit, but it was a necessary evil. There was a good enough chance the delivery person was not going to be Steve.   
She looked at the clock. Five minutes had passed. She dabbed at Todd's face some more and was rewarded with an eyelid flutter. Then his head moved to the side as he fought his way back to consciousness.   
"Mother o' fuck," he squeaked, "Who went an' dropped th' house on me?"   
Sara felt both relieved and giddy. She laughed and burst into tears all at once, gathering him up for a bone-creaking hug.

* * *

"Don't let her **near** me, she's a freakin' **maniac**!" Pietro shrieked. "She's a goddamn valkyrie dyke nudist frigid exhibitionist **freakshow**!"   
Tabby was so distracted that one of her little boom-bombs went off in her hand. "GODFUCKINGDAMNIT!" She flapped the others into random places, where they promptly went off and scattered bits of detritous all over her. "I just want some fucking **ANSWERS**! Who the **FUCK** are you talking about, Pie?"   
"Adrians(1)," Pietro panted. "She's a fucking **psycho**! She just played golf with Lance's frikkin' **head**."   
"It's true," said Fred. "I guess she musta thought he'd tried to beat Todd up or something. It **did** look that way."   
"Waitaminute, waitaminute. Are we talking about **Essel**?" She boggled. "Weedy guy, 'bout yae high," she gestured, "busts in on my quickies on a regular basis? Carries feminine things in his bag(2)? Essel the **transie**?"   
"Oh, she's not a transie," said Pietro, shaking his head. "Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. No way in heaven or hell. She's **definitely** a born-in-the-body **girl**."   
"The fuck?" said Tabby.   
"Saw it all this morning," Pietro whispered.   
"I'll have the apricot pie, Ma," Lance burbled on the couch. "I like pie."   
Freddy was concerned enough to just hand him the bottles of painkillers.   
Pietro siezed her attention by way of her messed shirtfront. "You can't tuck **and** stand legs akimbo when you're naked," he confided into her ear. "She's definitely a she."   
Tabby could see it in her mind's eye, now. Essel - or was it Adrians? - was the early-morning singer. The sight of hi-- **her** drove Pietro into the shocked fits up and down the hall. Then, somehow, he let it slip in front of Todd, who declared war.   
Todd, never the strong fighter, fell in the fracas and, just as Lance was trying to find out if he was okay, Adrians decided **Lance** was the aggressor and went off the deep end.   
That was, of course, assuming that Adrians wasn't off the deep end **already**.   
"Saw it all..." Pietro was mumbling. "Oh. My. Fucking. God... Tabby... I **touched** a girls - **girlie** things! They were Maxi pads! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUUWW!"   
Tabby decided to wait for her retroactive revenge by proxy. The guy was suffering enough already. For now, at least.   
Then the crimson tides of mortification welled up in her as she realized - she'd been seen in action by another female. **Ick**. Did that make her a secret lesbian? Showing off to another woman?   
Part of her mind started running around in circles and going, _OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod..._

Meanwhile, Sara made Todd comfortable on her vacated mattress. He was in no state to get up. Not yet.   
But she couldn't worry about that now. She had an incoming delivery to sign for and she had to appear human.   
Her sweats and jumper covered most of it. The forgotten work gloves sufficed to hide her hands... but what to do about her face?   
Sara dug in her bag, looking for solutions and finding one in the rest of her hazmat kit. Face mask. Safety goggles. Head scarf.   
She'd be covered from head to toe.   
All she'd need was a decent glop of foundation around the eyes.   
Yes.   
Sara put away her shakes so she could apply the makeup, and cover up reliably. She even triple-checked her concealment in the handiest mirror before heading back down and resuming her refuse-eviction as if nothing had happened.   
Pietro dissolved into shrieking hysterics when she came near him and zipped into the furthest corner he could find.   
Scrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeet! HONKHONK!   
That **had** to be Steve. Nobody else could pull up along half the length of the street.   
An anaemic rattle that could have been a doorbell, followed by agitated knocking.   
"Oh, **Stephen**, stop being such a wet hen," Sara chided as she opened the door.   
"Whoah," said Steve. "This place **seriously** needs a visit from the cleanup fairy," he judged. "Too bad I have to work today."   
"They'll have to settle for the cleanup androgene," said Sara, scratching her name in the allotted place on Steve's clipboard. "One box or three?"   
"Four. I decided to add some basic vitamins and herbal uppers, given your order on the bulk foodstuffs. Looks like I should have included a pound of plaster and some of the spring paints. Maybe some gauzy curtains..."

Pietro stared as the delivery man prattled. This guy was solidly classified in Pietro's brain under the word "Rival". He possessed all the best features of the African and Asian races, finely-toned muscle, astounding taste in clothing and the sort of Fabio-esque locks that had the girls drooling.   
What the hell was Adrians doing talking to **HIM** and kissing **TODD**?   
Bound by the chains of morbid curiosity, he followed the strange duo out to the truck, where he was **noticed**.   
"Pie-pie!" Cooed Steve. "I haven't seen you since I had to let you down. Why didn't you **call**? You're not still put out about the age difference thing are you?"   
It was at that precise moment that Pietro noticed that Steve was wearing pumps.   
A little bit of mental arithmatic added a cocktail dress and a lot of alcohol one fine May evening.   
This time, he was certain, Xavier himself would have heard Pietro's mental scream.   
"Okay," he announced. "This is just **WAY** too fucked up for me. I'm going to school." He ducked out of sight and lay on the speed.

"But you're still in your--" Sara sighed. "--jammies."   
"Aw, don't fret," said Steve. "He's bound to find out soon enough."   
"Knowing him, he'll pull it off as a fashion trend," said Sara, hefting a box. "Come on, ducks. I'll show you where the clean spot is."   
"Sounds like a fortnight hazmat to **me**," Steve tisked. He had a box under each arm. "I **must** say, you're an excellent workout, darling."   
"I do my little bit," said Sara. "Stacking those shelves has to work, too, you know."   
Lance, still nursing the egg on his temple, moaned and tried to sit up. "...the fuck...?" he warbled.   
"What happened to **him**?" boggled Steve. "I mean, aside from the horrendous mullet."   
"He messed with the wrong woman's man," said Sara.   
"Hey," said Tabby, buffing her nails against the staircase. "What did you **mean**, 'slow of mind'?"   
Sara just grinned, though no-one could see it under her mask.

(1) Also a common misconception of Sara's last name.   
(2) Of **course** she heard from Pietro.

* * *


	15. 15

  
Lance was starting to come around. Freddy could tell things were going to become geologically unstable when he recovered. His face had gone from vacant to vacantly pissed off. Lance was mad, but at the moment, not quite sure he knew who to be mad **at**. Either way he was dangerous.   
Freddy decided to head him off. "Hey, Lance? You feelin' any better?"   
"Rrrgh... tell me again who took the sledgehammer to my skull. Then hold them still while I rip them in **half**."   
Fred blanched. "Even if they thought you was attackin' their friend when it was really Pietro's fault?"   
Lance gritted his teeth and readjusted the icepack on his forehead. "I'll kick his ass too then."   
"C'mon, Lance, don't blame Sara. She was jus'--"   
"Yah, I **know**, okay? Doesn't mean I ain't pissed. Make the headache go away and I'll **think** about letting this slide." Lance winced at the volume of his own voice. "Ugh."   
"Here," Sara tossed Freddy an economy sized bottle of Advil. Then she glared at Lance. "You ever touch Todd or any student at school for money, personal kicks, or otherwise again, you'll be needing a truckload."   
"Whatever," Lance moaned pitifully and held his hand out to Fred for Advil.   
Sara led Steve to the kitchen with the last of the boxes.   
"Wow. Never thought I'd see food growing out of the wallpaper."   
"The members of this household definitely have MAIDS. In the most advanced stages."(1)   
"MAIDS?"   
"Male Acquired Incapability Disorder Syndrome. Read about it on someone's rant page."   
"Ah. No female around to pick up after them." Steve dove into one of the boxes and started putting them in the refridgerator. Opening the fridge may have been a mistake. Steve stared, one jar of mayonnaise in his hand. "I have never seen so many hues of mold in all my life."   
"I didn't order any perishables, so they all can sit safely in the cupboards for now," Sara said, rummaging around in search of something. "Aha!" She produced the honey and slipped it into the pocket of her sweatpants.   
"I need to go upstairs and see a patient." She handed Steve the cash due plus a nice tip.   
Tabby, who'd come up to watch in the doorway, stared. She was ignored by both.   
Steve was trying to hand back the tip. "You might need this for something later."   
Sara waved his hand away. "No, you've been a big help. And your mom always needs stuff for the cats."   
"I don't like leaving you with mullet-head, especially after his threats."   
"Fred and Todd are on my side, and Pietro would sooner shave his head and dip it in lye than **touch** me. I'm relatively safe. Alvers isn't a threat to worry about. Go on now, shoo. I'm **fine**."   
Steve left only after making sure she had his cell phone number and having extracted a promise that she'd call at the slightest wrong look. She waved from the porch and walked inside to find Lance looking decidedly more aware of his surroundings. "Hey," he started. "I wasn't going to hurt Todd. He passed out because he pushed himself too hard. It was Pietro's fault."   
"Relax," Sara said dryly, heading up the stairs. "I no longer **have** the shovel. You're safe until next time."   
"...God **dammit**." If it was one thing Lance hated, it was being held responsible for something he actually **didn't** do. 

(1) MAIDS is from InterNutter's rant page. Had to, it was too tempting. You can find it here: www(dot)internutter(dot)org(slash)index(dot)php?arearandom

* * *

Sara waited until the van's tires screeched at the corner, indicating that Steve was on his way back to the store, before she shed so much as one scrap of her guise.   
Gah, it was hot in that get-up.   
And getting out of it was skin-snaggingly uncomfortable.   
Todd barely opened her eyes when she jostled his head onto her lap. No matter. He was bound to recover. She dipped a plastic spoon into the honey and drizzled most of it off before offering it to him.   
"Just suck on the spoon, dear," she instructed. "It should help you feel a little better."   
"Wh't happ'n'd?" he croaked.   
"You were unconscious," said Sara. "My best guess is that your reserves were completely depleted fending off that **thug** Alvers."   
"Whoah. Wait. **Lance**?"   
"He **does** have a prediliction towards preying on those younger and weaker than him - no offense."   
"Yo, he was pryin' me off'a Pie-pie, hon," said Todd. He pulled the spoon out of his mouth and gave it to her. "Pie's the scuzzo."   
Sara considered the honey. The jar was one of those little itty bitty samplers favoured by single people living alone. No doubt that Todd would consume all of it before he was well enough to move under his own steam. Sara re-used the spoon for the next dose. "How so? I know the boy's some kind of pickpocket-slash-pervert, but--"   
"Yeah, an' he's also a peepin' tom," growled Todd.   
The hot hordes of embaressment flooded over her face, ears and some of her chest. One of her most secret of nightmares had come true. Someone had **seen** her early-morning ritual. Mother was going to know.   
Mother was going to go **spare**.   
Todd's voice was a distant, vague hum to her ears. All she could hear was her world tumbling into ruins around her.   
Mother would send her off to some kind of obscure convent school for sex-crazed Bad Girls who would try to convert her to bisexuality for their own entertainment.   
Certainly not **Sara's** entertainment.   
Oh dear, oh dear, oh **dear**.

"Yeah, an' he's also a peepin' tom," Todd growled. "Scuzzbucket just thinks he can zip in an' out an' not pay any consequences, he got another think comin', yo. He ain't gonna treat **YOU** like no free show an' get away wit' it, I'm'a see to that m'self." Honey cleaned off the spoon, he tried to give it back to Sara.   
Sara, however, had vanished into some kind of funk. The parts of her skin that were still pinkish were -well- pinker than normal. The scales - her new, beautiful scales - were darker than her normal pale tone.   
Poor girl. She was mortified into a statue. Todd gently helped himself. "It's gonna be okay, I swear. I ain't gonna let nothin' hurt yo' if I can help it, yanno? I'm'a have a li'l **chat** wit' the guys, yo. An' lemme tell ya, **nobody** wants a fresh case o' revenga ala Toad, yo. I gotta be **home** today. They don't want me leavin' 'em little unwelcome gifts if yo' get mah drift." He grinned around his spoonful of honey.   
Sara looked even more upset and embarressed than ever before.   
"Sara? Hon?"   
Her eyes shed a tear. "Mother's going to **know**."   
"What, that some dude barged in on you inna shower?"   
Sara's head - twitched... something like watching a bobble-head doll in a car going over a speed-bump. "I have something of a secret vice," she confessed, her voice a whisper. "I love the feel of the dawn's first sunshine on my skin. **All** of my skin..."   
A sudden vision of Sara - tall, proud and beautiful in her new scales, soaking in the first rays of a new day - paraded across Todd's mind. _Man, if I were some Manga dude, I'd have a nosebleed..._ He deliberately stopped himself from asking any naughty questions. Or anything related to a naughty question. This was Sara's most secret ritual, something that gave her something to wake up for. The thing that got her out of bed every morning, to begin yet another day that would, inevitably, be full of her misery.   
Something she kept from everyone.   
Except him.   
And - by force - Pietro.   
"...and now he's headed off to school and he's going to **talk**," Sara blubbed. "Mother's going to know before the day's out. She's going to **find** me - like **this**... Oh Todd... darling, I'm so sorry... It's all going to blow up... It's all my fault..."   
_Oh **fuck**._ He hugged her. "Shhh... It's gonna be okay, yo. Shhh... We'll think of somethin', I swear."   
And there was Lance, sporting a huge lump on his temple. "Awright, Essel,"   
"Sara Louise Adrien," quavered Sara. "Doom of mutantkind."   
That confused Lance enough to blink. "Okay. You get points for supplying painkillers, so I'm not gonna kill ya **just** yet... but if you so much as **try** that again, you'll see a whole new meaning to the words 'rock and roll', got me?"   
Todd rolled his eyes. _Damnit._ "Lance... shut the fuck up, okay? We need a plan."   
"Huh?"   
"Brief skinny," said Todd. "Pie saw Sara naked. He's gonna **talk**. Which means her Mom's gonna go nuclear an' hunt her down. And find her."   
"Oh **fuck**," said Lance. "I'm getting in the Jeep **now**."   
"I'd put some pants on, first," said Sara, apparently still in her misery coma. "I think the school board frowns on boxer shorts as much as they do pyjamas."   
"Wait. Pie's in his jimmy-jams?" said Todd. "Sara, yo' problem jus' solved itself."   
She blinked at him. "I... don't get it."

"You won't **BELIEVE** what I just saw," said Pietro, accosting the first person he could find.   
"Lemme guess," said Evan. "A mouse came outta your closet before you did?"   
"What?"   
"Cute outfit, Maximoff," said Summers.   
"Like, **love** the new look," giggled Kitty.   
"Thefuckyoutalkingab--" he looked down. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"   
Of all the nights he had to wear the AbFab flannies, **last** night had to be it. He'd completely forgotten.   
He was at school and he'd completely forgotten that he was still in his PJ's.   
His pink, glitter-painted _Absolutely Fabulous_ flannel jammies.   
And the gathering crowd had **noticed**.   
"**FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK**!"

* * *

"GODDAMMITDAMMITDAMMITWHYMEEEEEI'MTOOCUTETODIESOCIALLY!" Pietro ranted at the top of his lungs while speeding home. The use of oxygen meant he was slower than usual while getting home. He sped up the stairs, slammed his door and dressed in some normal clothes. If he hurried, he could get back before word spread too far. Nobody would be able to match the story up if he was suddenly in clothes by first period.   
Unbeknownst to Pietro, Lance had positioned himself in front of his room and was holding the linen closet door open. Pietro never suspected that there was a second door to go through when he opened the first and sped through it.   
**WHHHAAAM** "FFFFFFUUU--" **THUMP**   
Lance picked the dazed boy up by his shirt and dragged him into Sara's room. Pietro was deposited unceremoniously on the ground in front of Sara and Todd. He shut the door behind him and stood in front of it. Lance was going to watch and if Pietro didn't catch it from Sara, Lance would be more than happy to share the punishment he had unfairly suffered at her hands.   
Todd was still in Sara's arms and feeling too woobly to stand, but he turned on the death glare. Pie was still on the ground moaning about his social life and aching nose. They waited until he became aware of his surroundings.   
Pietro saw Sara come into focus and screamed. He looked around wildly, noticing with horror that Lance was standing guard at the door. Left without another choice, he scrabbled for the only available shelter. The closet. Pietro jammed himself inbetween boxes and managed to close the sliding door only half way before the wheels got stuck.   
"Calm **down**, fool. Yo makin' this harder than it has to be." Todd's voice had a strange calmness to it.   
"Stop being such a wuss," Lance agreed. "We need to talk."

* * *

Sara stood and brushed herself off. Her heart was calmer than death as she stepped up to Maximoff's hiding place. It was as if every emotion she possessed had gone into hiding in her mental warehouse.   
"Mister Maximoff," she said, the crisp tones of Boston invading her voice. "Whilst I normally believe that every being on the planet deserves a second chance... **you** had worn yours out when you elected to become a **quidnunc**(1)."   
Pietro whimpered in his place.   
"Furthermore, you've lead me to believe that our mutual security was at risk thanks to your flapping maw... so..." Sara cracked her knuckles, then her thumbs, then her wrists, elbows, shoulder blades, neck and - with a surprisingly graceful arc of her back - her spine.   
Pietro quivered in place and made a bizarre, nonverbal noise of disgust.   
She continued, cracking her hips, knees, ankles and toes.   
Pietro did a marvellous impression of someone with epilepsy.   
Sara bent and picked him up by the neck of his jammies, adding a little twist that cut off his air supply. "Breathe so much as one **word** about my early-morning activities to another soul and I swear by all that is Holy, I will find a way to make your life synonymous with dwelling in Hades. My vengeance will be long and compound. You will become my new hobby. And I further suspect that Todd will never forgive you, and pursue a similar plan."   
Pietro coughed. "...need... tobreathe..." he gasped.   
"But since you and your ilk only understand physical violence..." She carried him to the top of the stairs, wound up, baseball style - and then hurled him wholesale down the steps. "Don't even **think** of so much as **breathing** incorrectly around either of us. Are we **clear**?"

(1) It's synonymous with Peeping Tom, according to www(dot)dictionary(dot)com

* * *


	16. 16

  
Pietro's body traveled down the stairs in five solid whumps and a lot of screaming for the second time that morning. Only this time, Todd wasn't sharing the brunt of it.   
Sara glared down at him as his body came to rest upside down against the front door.   
"Don't even **think** of so much as **breathing** incorrectly around either of us. Are we **clear**?"   
Pietro managed a squeak. He moved his legs to the west, tipping himself out of his crash-landed position and onto his side. Once right-side up, he looked up the stairs. The she-demon was beginning to remind him a **lot** of Mystique, only Mystique never needed a **reason** to throw anybody down the stairs - at least not a good one.   
It was going to be a very long time before Pietro went back into provocation mode. For now, surrender was the only clear way out of hell. He held up his hands. "Whatever you want, Essel."   
"Sara," Todd snapped, coming to stand by her. "You can at **least** get her name right, yo."   
"Sara Essel?" Pietro tried again.   
"Sara Louise **Adrien**," she corrected icily.   
"Sorry. Well, anyway..." He brushed himself off, putting on a cool act though his hands were shaking. "You've made it perfectly clear what'll happen if I talk, and I'm impressed with the way you handled yourself. So yeah, I'll keep my mouth shut."   
"Yo sure you **can**, Quickie?"   
"Positive," Pietro snapped. "If I want to keep a secret, I'll keep a secret. It's not like **everyone** wants to know about Ess--" Killer death glares from Todd and Sara made him bite his tongue. "**Adrien's** weird morning ritual... which by the way I saw by **complete** accident."   
"So ya nose just happened to become glued to the window overnight?"   
Pietro stamped his foot. "I wanted to see who was **singing**, dumbass! Getting an eyeful was the last thing on my mind!"   
"You may have **seen** by accident, but what the hell gave you the right to keep watchin'?" Todd glowered.   
The speedster's mouth opened and closed, momentarily lack of wit. "Whatever. I said I wouldn't say nothin', and I won't. If I gotta live with **another** psychobitch, I'd better play by her rules."   
Todd's hackles rose and at precisely the same time his legs gave out from under him. "Awww, this is whack, man," he complained from the floor. Sara gathered him up and escorted him back to the room.   
"**Please** don't try to move until you're better?"

* * *

Todd, currently snuggled against her chest, in close proximity to her scent and in prime cuddling position, mumured, "Whatever you say, sugarlips."   
"Psychobitch," Sara muttered. "Hmph."   
"Aw, don't pay no 'tention to him, yo. I tole yo'. He's an ass."   
"Todd, dear, the company you keep has some deplorable habits," Sara said as she nestled him back down into the matress that had served as her bed. "Theft, thuggery, **spying**..." she tisked. "I can understand theft for survival, dear, but some of Maximoff's antics are above and beyond... It's as if other people exist solely for his own entertainment."   
Todd raised his eyebrows as he swallowed some more honey. That was both close to the mark **and** the bone. "Yo, how'd you figure that?"   
"I've worked out who was responsible for the wholesale display of my belongings around the school campus," said Sara. "Theft was possible, but he'd much rather arrange things for maximum mortification. He wasn't out to survive, dear. He was **hunting**."   
_Dayumn..._ "An' I guess you heard stuff about me, too."   
"What I hear and what I know are two different things. I **hear** you'd rip off anyone for a dollar, but I **know** that you've been through my bag several times, and all my wallets are intact."   
"You know that?"   
Sara grinned. "I can tell when my belongings have been disturbed. It's routine for me to check my funds. I don't even think of it." She blushed. "Sorry."   
"Naw, you were right to," he said. "Time was, I mighta ripped yo' off... but not no mo'." His hands, now that they had nothing to do, drifted towards hers. "I... I like yo'. A lot."   
There was a small emotional battle across her face. A small army of tic's controlled her, but only for a moment. "You need something more solid in you than honey," she said. "I've cleared enough things to make some hearty meals..."   
"Yo, chicken soup be fine," he smiled. "Honest."   
"Then chicken soup you shall have."   
Their lips met again, telling the truth of their emotions, deeper than 'like', for certain. There was fear there, too. Fear of screwing things up. Fear of loss. Fear of breaking this one, fragile good thing that was going between them.   
"I'll be back," said Sara. She was flushed and smiling.   
"I'll be waiting," he panted. He couldn't stop the goofy smile on his face.

* * *

Pietro had vanished by the time Sara reached the kitchen. Several foodstuffs had been rummaged through, not unexpectedly. It would have been nice, though, if they'd thanked her for supplying it. Fred had left a note.   
_Hey Sara,_   
_Lance me went to school. I packed lunches Tabby took sum of the drinks when I wasn't looking. Sorry. Hope you don't mind. I put the good stuff on high shelves._   
_See you later_   
_Freddy :)_   
Sara opened the cupboard door and saw that Freddy wasn't kiddin'. Pietro and Tabby would have a hard time reaching anything up **there** considering that the only chair strong enough to stand on was the heavy armchair in the living room. That armchair was **Freddy's** and darned near impossible to move.   
She was tall enough however, and brought down a can of chicken soup and the bottle of multivitamins. Sara turned on the stove and set to work, feeling an odd sense of irony. She'd always cooked elaborate breakfasts for her mother and had to sneak the gift in, else it would be thrown out. This time she was cooking for someone who **wanted** it.   
And it was naught but chicken soup.   
Sara stirred the mixture to smoothness and taste. When it was hot and good, she ladled it into a bowl, turned off the stove and placed the offering on a tray along with a pitcher of water. The salt in the soup would make Todd thirsty and amidst all the excitement, he probably hadn't gotten any water.   
She walked upstairs to find him still on the bed with eyes closed. He opened them at the sound of her footsteps. "Missed you, yo."   
"As did I." She set the tray down and offered some water, which he took gratefully. Todd downed half the pitcher in eight seconds flat. With a sheepish grin, he set it back down on the tray.   
"Yo, you been drinkin' water too, right? Sometimes yo body don't **tell** you it's thirsty. It just reacts." He was speaking from experience. Magneto had put them through four hours out in the desert of drilling, sparring, and endurance building with small breaks for water in between. Todd had seriously misjudged how much he needed to keep up with the others. After they revived the boy, Magneto had been furious with him for not knowing his limit - regardless of the fact that he had denied the young mutant coldly when he begged for more water.   
"I'll keep that in mind," Sara promised. She caught sight of the dry flakes on his upper arm and brushed them off. Todd moved into her touch gratefully.   
"Feels good, yo," he whimpered. Her hand moved around to his shoulderblade, elicitting another whimper. There were several patches of dry skin on his back in unreachable places, which made her itch in sympathy. Sara touched the hem of his shirt.   
"Er, may I?"   
"Sure," Todd said. "Yo don't have to though - it's kinda gro--" Sara's hand lifted away the fabric and her fingernails provided instant relief, peeling away the excess epidermis. Todd turned into a virtual puddle, forgetting he had started a sentence. "Oooohhhh... thank youuuuuu..."

* * *

Sara giggled and blushed in spite of herself. Todd was turning into a very happy puddle under her fingers. His expression of bliss was almost - comedic, in its way.   
_If mother ever heard that I was in a bedchamber with a shirtless male..._ Mother! Aw **crap**. She still had to impersonate her mother and call the school.   
Sara let go of Todd and dived for her mobile, punching numbers.   
"Mwf?" said Todd.   
"Shh. I need to be my mother for a minute. Hush, I beg you." Sara sublimated herself and let the character and voice of her mother rise.   
"Bayville High, please hold."   
Phone tag. Mother sneered and rolled Sara's eyes. The hold music was some static-y radio station playing things designed to give people migranes. She kept the phone a little distant from her ear until she heard, "Bayville High, how can I help you?"   
"This is Mrs Adrien," she said in her mother's voice. "My useless **daughter's** gone and caught some kind of influenza. She won't be in today."   
Clicking carried over the line. "Uh... Are you sure your daughter attends this school Mrs Adrians? I can't find any records..."   
"Try spelling it A-D-R-I-E-N, dear," said mother sweetly.   
"A-D-R..." intoned the secretary. "I-E-N-S."   
"No S, sweetie," corrected Mom.   
"Oh," Clicketty tap tap... She had to re-enter the spelling. "I have an entry for an Adrien, SL..."   
"That's her. Sara Louise. She's ill and won't be in, today."   
"Thank you, I have those details down."   
"Thank you so much," she almost sang the words, then hung up and became the Dragon. "Stupid illiterate little **slattern**. Barely worth anything at all. I should write a letter to the education board about the people they hire. **My** tax money goes to--"   
_Away,_ thought Sara. _This is still **my** body and you don't own it yet._ Sara flickered to the surface. "Sorry you had to see that, dear."   
"...whoah..." squeaked Todd.

* * *


	17. 17

  
"I din't know you could channel **demons**, sweetheart," Todd said, trying to relieve the tension. Sara looked like she was suffering a migraine. He reached forward to rub at her temples.   
"I wouldn't call it **channeling** per se. We're the Adrien family. Her genes are my genes, and she's part dragon so I must be too."   
"Yo, I only known you for a short time, but I can tell you that you ain't **nothin'** like yo momma."   
_Ignorant trash,_ Mother sneered. _Can't even speak proper English and he smells like he's been living in a garbage truck. Of course **you'd** find him charming._   
Sara shuddered. _Off with you. Now._ "She's already imprinted on me. Someday I'll be at least a little bit like her. Either that or I'll be a schizophrenic." She laughed. It had a wavering hollow ring to it. Todd stroked her cheek.   
"I used to think I'd be like Pops. He hurt me and Momma a lot." Todd moved his free hand to cover hers. "I was scared of doin' that to anyone **I** cared about, so for a while I closed myself off to people. Better to be alone than a monster, y'know? See you ain't gonna become your momma 'cause you're too worried about hurtin' people like she hurt you. I **been** there, b'fore. I think you're gonna be okay."   
"Just promise me you'll leave if she makes me hurt you," Sara whispered.   
Todd held her.   
"She couldn't hurt me enough to promise somet'in like that."

* * *

"I know **I** couldn't, but..." Sara tried to steady her breathing. "Have you ever known someone so well that you have a sort of copy of them inside your head?"   
Todd shook his head.   
"It's a kind of telepathy by osmosis," she explained. "One absorbs everything they say, the patterns of their speech, the way they act... until you can know exactly what they're going to say about something, down to the last inflection."   
Todd's eyebrows vanished into his hair. "Yo, I **never** wanna meet yo' mama."   
"She **is** a dragon for me," Sara managed, "but Dad loves her."   
"**WHY**?" boggled Todd.   
"She's a completely different person with him. He's the realisation of her dreams... the best thing that happened to her. I'm the one who's the nightmare."   
"Sara..." he chided.   
"I know. I know. I shouldn't talk like that... Mother's still ascendant." A few tic's shivered across her face. Todd helped her still them. "I honestly don't know why Dad loves her. I can't see it. It's as if I'm permanently eclipsed from all the good in her. Kept in the dark." She sighed.   
"Yeah," said Todd. "I never got why Mom stayed with Pops, neither."   
"Either," corrected Sara. "At least you've 'met' Mother in a way... Perhaps you can tell me when she's coming out..."   
"Easy as," he soothed. "Ain't no way I ever wanna see her again." He snuggled up beside her and gave her a gentle squeeze. "Ain't gonna let her get yo'."   
It was such a relief to have someone to rely on, Sara didn't know how tense she'd been about the entire mess until she let it out in one, deep, breath-long sigh of relief. "**Thank** you, darling."   
"Be my pleasure," cooed Todd.   
She winced at a cramplet under her wrist. "Nng. Sorry, dearest, but I must get back to work."   
"Aw, man. Yo' don't gotta..."   
"I need to **do** something, darling," she explained. "It keeps my mind off the cramps, you see."   
"Just promise me you drink something before you get back to it?"   
Sara kissed him. "You're cute when you're being a mother hen."

Todd followed her downstairs and gave himself the task of supplying her with water. She guzzled the first five mugs without taking a breath.   
"Tole yo' so," he said.   
"Noted and logged, darling," Sara said, fetching herself another mug-full. "Watch. I'm being a **good** girl."   
Todd found himself grinning like a fool as she chugged it. Even when desperate for water, she had a kind of grace to the way she knocked it back. Poise. If there was a polite way to chug a drink, Sara had found it.   
He even wound up helping her sort through the piles of stuff she had found under the topmost layer of takeout containers and loose papers.   
"Dayumn, yo. I never knew we had so much shi-- uh... **Stuff**."   
"You **can** say the words, dear," Sara giggled. "I have heard them before."   
"Yo, but-- I don' wanna embaress yo'." He grinned as he chucked out a rat-worried magazine. "I like it better when yo' blush from **compliments**, y'know? Yo' get this cute little smile..."   
She gave him that very smile as she evicted a bundle of empty envelopes.   
_Wow,_ thought Todd. _I got a girl who likes me and I'm voluntarily cleaning this place **up**. I be takin' **baths**, next._ And somehow, that thought wasn't all that very alarming. _I must be in love. Wow._

* * *

The grin didn't go away all through the cleaning cycle. Todd realized he could clean very well when he didn't realize he was doing it. Anything that looked salvagable like clothes went into a wicker basket (which had previously held prechewed gum, old newspapers, and splinters of wood from logs for the fireplace). Todd worked on picking debris off the floor, unconsciously clearing paths to be near Sara whenever she moved to a new spot.   
By the time the living room looked liveable to Sara's standards, it was already noon. She moved to the kitchen just as the phone rang. "I'll get it, yo," Todd said hopping toward it. "Brotherhood Boardin' House, wassup?"   
"Can't wait to hear the outgoing," giggled Sara from the kitchen.   
"Hey, it's me Lance. Everything cool?"   
"Yeah, why?" Todd asked, glancing in Sara's direction. Lance sounded nervous. Not good.   
"The X-geeks just approached me asking if I happened to know where Essel was."   
Todd cleared his throat meaningfully.   
"Yeah, I know. Sara. But they asked if I'd seen Essel. I told them to fuck off but I know Jean tried to pry. Todd, if Sara loses control of her powers, they're gonna be all over you. Xavier can pull all the strings he wants to let them out of school early if he wants to make things convenient for himself, you get my drift? Be careful. Don't goof off."   
"Gotcha," Todd said meekly. Lance hung up. Todd returned the phone to its cradle, feeling his stomach lurch. The X-geeks knew. They didn't know very **much** but they at least knew she was a mutant and they knew her school name. **Fuck.** Sara was in the doorway, looking at him quizzically.   
"Something wrong?"   
He looked at her, trying not to appear as worried as he felt. "We might be expectin' some company is all. From the X-men." He gulped suddenly at a new thought. "At least... after they try yo momma's place."

* * *

Sara fumbled for her cell. Redial. _Please, Ray... answer?_   
"Adrien residence? How may I assist you."   
"Ray... Everything's going nuts."   
"Oh dear. What's the problem, miss?"   
"There might be some people coming by," she began. "They'll be looking for my male alter-ego **or** me, I'm not sure which... Mom can't know where I am. Mom can't know I'm not at school. They can't know I'm not at home."   
"You're unwell?"   
"Ray? Do you have anything against mutants?"   
A moment's silence. "Oh."   
"Yeah. I'm changing... Right now I'm not exactly presentable for company... or the press. **Nobody** can know. Please..."   
"I'll do my best to send them along, then."   
"Where **is** Mom?"   
"The lady is out of the house for the day. I believe she was going to a gallery."   
Ah. So she'd be coming home shickered and incoherent. If she didn't spend the night at a friend's place.   
That meant twenty-four hours where they wouldn't get anything out of the family.   
"Bless you, Ray. I have to go and concoct a plan B."   
"Best of fortune, miss."   
She hung up, trying to control her breathing. A small experiment revealed that - although she could hide herself, her dead skin refused to blend. Damn.   
"If they come anywhere near us... I'll have to wear hazmat gear or bunk and hide in the shrubbery or--"   
"Or come clean," said Todd. "We could surrender?"   
"But--"   
"Yo, if we head 'em off at the pass, nobody gets hurt, yaknow?" he said. "Xavier can pick yo' up wit' that machine o' his an'..." he sighed. "He can can handle yo' Mom."   
Her stomach rumbled. "We have to think **and** eat, dear. Is there any place we can see the school?"   
"Hey, yo, up on the roof." Todd grinned. "If we see them X-geeks leavin' 'fore school ends, we can get ahead of 'em, yo."   
Sara offered him a handful of meusli bars. "Doing the rest of the house can wait," she said, "this takes priority."   
"And how," added Todd.

The climb onto the roof was only slightly tricky when they came to the loft ladder. Sara had to psyche herself up it.   
"Ironic, don't you think?" she quavered. "Someone like me... afraid of heights."   
"Ain't gonna let yo' fall, sugarlips," said Todd. "I'd never let yo' get hurt." He reached down for her. "You can do it, babe."   
"I have to," she breathed. Her face went blank again and her trembling stilled. Blank and empty, like some horrible automaton with Sara's face, she climbed up, paced away from the hole, and then collapsed, shaking, as Sara returned.   
Todd moved to comfort her. "It's okay. It's okay, hon..."   
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... there's no box big enough for a phobia... I'm sorry."   
"...uh," Todd managed. "What?"   
"It's just mental compartmentalisation," she said. "You take something that's - inconvenient - and put it in a box in your mind. And you seal it off. Contain it. Put it away." She shuddered and grabbed at him in spasms. "The really big things can't be contained permanently. I have to put them away, but it only works for a moment..."   
_Okay... the woman I love is in serious need of professional help..._ "It's okay, baby," he soothed. "It's okay. I don't think worse of ya for it. Shh... 'S awright."   
Sara breathed raggedly. "I..." she managed. "**Hate**. Heights."   
"Just a li'l further, now," he encouraged. "We get onna roof an' we can see whassup. 'Kay?"   
Sara nodded.   
"It's cool. Ain't gonna let yo' fall."   
Sara whimpered in assent. Her hand held his in a death grip.   
As it turned out, they didn't actually get to the roof, because Todd could see all he needed to from the hatch.   
"Aw **fuck**, no..."   
The black van was at the gates, and several little dots were piling in.   
"Honey?" he said, patting her hand. "We gotta go back **down** the ladder..."

"So his name's Adrian Adrians?" said Scott.   
"Nein, you're not **listening**," argued Kurt. "From the top, okay? One. There is no such person as Adrian Essel, ja?"   
"Rrrriiiigght..." he said.   
"The person we **think** is Essel is actually a girl, ja?"   
"**Oh**... we musta got her name backwards," said Scott. "It's Isselle Adrians, right?"   
"**Nein**! Wait. Listen..." Kurt persisted. "Her name's Sara Adrien."   
"So why'd she go by 'Isselle'?"   
Kurt rolled his eyes. "You know," he said. "I'm beginning to see why she doesn't bother correcting anyone any more." He produced a piece of paper. "Here. Just read her record summary."   
Jean took it off him as the van started down the road. She telepathically shared the information with everyone aboard.   
"Kicked out of a lot of schools, lots of behavior demerits... fighting... random absenteeism... Are we sure we want to talk to him?"   
"Her," corrected Ororo.   
"Whatever," said Jean.   
"Uh. Jean..." said Kurt. "A lot of those schools were for girls only? I think they'd **know**, ne?"   
"The Professor says that there's a blip at the boarding house," said Ororo. "They might be holding her captive."   
Scott started swearing and taking off his shoes. "Damnit. I **hate** changing in the van."   
Kurt just turned off his holowatch. "Don't know **what** you're complaining about."   
"I hate it when he does that," grumbled Kitty, seizing her uniform and beating everyone else to the girls' cubicle in the back(1).

(1) I don't know about you, but I was always creeped out when they left a place in civvies and turned up somewhere else in uniform. Yes. I **do** think about things way too much

* * *


	18. 18

  
Sara clung to him even tighter at the prospect of going down, especially since she'd have to do it backwards. Todd went first with the assurance that he would at least cushion her if she slipped. It was a long struggle for Sara to lower her legs into empty space and climb by feel, but she did with Todd's support and coaxing. Soon they were back on the landing of the second story just in time to witness the front door banging open.   
Cyclops walked in followed by Ororo, Kurt, Jean, Logan and the others.   
"What a pleasant surprise," Todd said sarcastically. "Doorbell busted?"   
"We didn't see one."   
"Did you look? Normally it's by the door."   
Scott reached for his visor. "Just let her go, Tolensky. We don't want any trouble."   
Todd walked down the stairs with Sara, allowing those assembled below to see the grip that she had on his arm. "I don't want no trouble either. Yo can talk to her all you want, long as yo civilized and don't talk a lot of bullshit. But fuck you if you think I'm gonna let you kidnap her for 'her own good'." He really didn't want to cuss in front of her, but he was upset and old habits were hard to break.   
Sara was trembling and fighting to keep it under control. Her eyes had filled with emptiness again. Todd glanced at her nervously. He needed her here. **She** needed to be here so she could speak her mind.   
"Isn't dishonesty and kidnapping generally a Brotherhood tactic?" Scott said coolly.   
"Mystique ain't here no more, yo. Sara came here of her own free will. I invited her." Todd glared meaningfully at Scott. "When we invite people, it means they can hang out with us. See what we're about. No harassment. No prying." He shifted his glare over to Ororo. "No tests."   
Logan growled softly. Todd ignored him and looked up at Sara. "Sara? Hon?" _I'll speak for you as much as I can, but you gotta stay with me. Please?_ He sighed. He didn't want to play devil's advocate, but she looked so frightened. Todd couldn't bear it. "Don't be afraid, yo. They won't hurt you. I won't let them hurt you. They just gonna talk."

* * *

Sara fought the shakes. The trip up and down the ladder had made her aware of the potential fall down the stairs. She could feel it pulling at her like a ghost.   
Her tic's fought for control of her face, albeit briefly.   
_Nobody wants to look at a spastic wreck like you,_ said her Inner Mom.   
_Go back into your box,_ she ordered the phantom. _Nobody needs **you** here._   
She clung tight to Todd and used his assistance to descend the stairs. "You'll have to pardon us," she said, Boston controlling her voice. "As you can see, we're quite unprepared for visitors. Alas, the furniture has been freshly cleaned and is still damp. If we decide to take tea, we shall have to take it standing."   
The one in orange had a complete posture change that clearly read _What the **hell**?_ while the dark-skinned woman in the cape simply raised an eyebrow.   
Sara spotted the famous Jean Grey in amongst the costumed crowd and repressed an ironic smirk. _If they do take me away,_ she thought, _I may finally have something in common with Mom's favourite girl._   
"Todd spoke the truth. I was invited here. As a place of shelter while I--" she gestured at her peeling face, "--changed. He's been... a very valued friend. I'll thank you all not to pursue any grudges you may have during this parley."   
One of them moved - for a blue fuzzy entity with demonic features, he certainly knew how to vanish when he wanted to. Nothing as overt as Sara's gift, no. Just the simple trick of fading out of notice. Were it not for his posture change, Sara might not have noticed him at all.   
"He's helped you out, ja?" he said. "Told you about mutants... Told you about us?"   
"Quite," said Sara. He was reading her as much as she was reading him. It was fascinating to watch his yellow eyes jink from indicator to indicator.   
Jean made to step forward, her mouth opening to speak, but the fuzzy German fellow shot out an arm without looking and stopped her cold. They shared meaningful glares and the German stepped forward in her stead.   
"If you don't mind me saying so," said Sara, "you're the most physically fascinating fellow I've met."   
He actually grinned. "Ja. I'm pretty unique." He preened, gaining confidence when she didn't react as he expected. Given his physical resemblance to a woodcut demon, Sara could easily guess what the expected reaction was. "My name's Kurt," he offered his tridactyl hand.   
"Sara Louise Adrien," she returned, politely shaking. Now **there** were some working hands. She could actually feel trained muscles and tendons. "The unsolved mystery(1)."   
"**Babe**..." chided Todd.   
"Sorry, darling... I can't help doing that for the meantime."   
"If you don't mind **me** asking," said Kurt. "What exactly were you told about us?"   
"That you would help," she said. "If there was nothing that Todd and his friends could do for me."   
Kurt shared a look with Todd, a puzzled one that attempted to work everything out anew. "You told the truth?"   
"Yo, it's such a shock?"   
"I take it you two have a history," said Sara.

(1) The show _Unsolved Mysteries_ periodically has pieces about paranormal happenings and cryptozoological sightings.

* * *

"Eh... yeah. We got some things in common, but it's not always enough, y'know? Certain personalities tend to collide and go boom."   
"Especially those that make a habit of lying and stealing," Scott added.   
"Scott," Jean admonished, and gave a smile that was all damage control and very little sincerity. Kurt could have told her it wouldn't have worked on Sara, but his eyes were on Todd.   
Todd was different somehow. His lights were prettier... stronger. And they were mingling with Sara's like will'o'th'wisps. Kurt understood.   
He smirked like the proverbial cat who had caught the canary. It was a bemusing revelation, but one that couldn't be well explained to his teammates without attracting a lot of confused stares. Kurt wasn't the type to blurt out things like this anyway. Far better to leave it be.   
Of course that didn't mean he was above a little teasing.   
"So, you do occasionally put others before yourself."   
Todd bristled. "Yo, what you sayin? That I'm a coward or somethin'?"   
Kurt raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Easy, liebhaberjunge(1). You asked for peace remember?"   
"Yeah, did I fail to ask fo' respect?" he grumbled.   
"Ja, but you're earning it. Slow and steady." Kurt winked. Todd snorted softly and crossed his arms. He could talk all he wanted about Kurt, but the elf could suck tension out of a room like nobody's business when he tried.   
"A'ight. Go on then. I'll keep it shut if you keep it real."   
Logan grunted, the closest articulation of satisfaction he could muster.   
Ororo stepped forward and took Sara's hand. "My name is Ororo Munroe. I wish to apologize for assuming the worst and for our resulting behavior. Since you already know our intentions are to help out fellow mutants," here Ororo smiled at Todd - who all but ducked under it in surprise. "I invite you to visit us at the Institute and have a look around. Professor Xavier would like to meet you. We can provide a supportive and safe environment where you can learn to harness your powers until you are ready to interact socially again."   
Sara nodded her understanding and glanced at Todd to gage his reaction. He returned her gaze solemnly. "They're keepin' it real, hon," he confirmed. "You wanna ask questions, now's the time."   
Scott stared and managed a squeak. Logan reached over casually to pop Cyke's jaw back in place.   
"Well, if you don't mind questions, Ms. Munroe, how do you propose introducing me back into society with my current differences?" Sara gestured once more to her face. "I was popular enough before," she commented wryly. "As the travelling drag-show."   
"Sara," Todd nudged her gently.   
"Sorry, dear. Anyway, it's going to be a while before I can make myself look normal enough to pass as human. Or something closely resembling." Todd sighed. Kurt watched carefully, observing both.   
Ororo smiled at her. "We have ways of making it possible to mask our differences from those who are not yet capable of understanding them. Kurt attends school with the aid of a holowatch, for instance. But we do not require you to mask yourself among fellow mutants. Your powers are nothing to be ashamed of. You are normal, Sara, no matter what anyone else might think or say of you."   
"Damn straight, yo," Todd added, earning himself another round of blinking stares. Kurt bit the corners of his bottom lip to keep from grinning himself into certain doom.(2) Nobody was remotely **trying** to understand Todd's oddly cooperative behavior - not even the telepath, judging from Jean's stupified expression.   
Todd ignored them and took her hand. "I agree wit most of what she's sayin'. But it's not gonna be easy to figure yoself out, no matter where you go. Some people never do. What the X-men are tryin' to say is, they want to be there for you like I am and like Freddy is. Plus they got a lot of extra resources an' shit. Like a medical lab in case yo get injured or somethin. Not to mention real food, clean beds, and probably even clean bathrooms."   
Scott looked indignant and about to speak, but Jean elbowed him from one side and Kitty elbowed him from another, so he kept his mouth shut.(3)   
"So it's there if you wanna go. Y'know, if things get outta control here." Todd's hand wrapped tighter around hers, despite the assuring smile on his face. It had hurt him to say that. But he loved her.

(1) Quite literally mashed together the words 'liebhaber' (lover) and 'junge'   
(boy) to come up with 'loverboy'. I speak Spangrish, not German. **pats her German phrasebook**   
(2) Ever wanted to laugh at something in a situation that wasn't really the best for laughing? And you know that if you even smile, you're **that** much closer to losing your self-control? That's what Kurt's going through right now.   
(3) I love picking on Scott. XD But really, the bathrooms in the X-mansion plus all the teenagers living there... who save the world, do schoolwork, participate in Logan's training sessions, and are seen doing chores only when they get into trouble... you do the math.

* * *

Sara had no idea what a 'holowatch' was, but she could guess. The fuzzy-blue Kurt had most of the same features as Kurt Wagner, German class clown and campus acrobat extrordinaire. Replace the fur with pink skin, edit the ears, hands, feet and tail... and the similarities were more than remarkable.   
It certainly explained his infamous "thing" about not touching people who didn't "feel safe".   
Sara rubbed idly at her creepy-feeling scalp with her free hand. They could hide the peeling. Hide the shedding.   
Heck, they could explain things to her **Mother**. Things Sara personally dreaded.   
Sara quelled the small tic under her right eyelid, and refused to let go of Todd's hand. She cleared her throat. "Might Todd come with me? I have no doubt that he might might need more than a modicum of medical attention himself."   
"Hey, **whoah**," Todd almost jerked out of her grasp. "I ain't about t' go there... I'm fine, yo. I be fine."   
He was **afraid**... genuinely afraid of the place.   
"But you're hurting as well," she murmured. "That won't **do**."   
He battled with himself, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Yo, I only been there once or twice... It - didn't go well..."   
"Automatic defense system," said the tall one in the wraparound specs with a shrug.   
"Which, I presume, will not be activated in our direction if I come in?"   
The burly man in the orange outfit flinched at the 'if'. So. Someone at least, was listening.   
"Yo... sweetie... you don't gotta drag me along..." Todd wheedled.   
"It'll be fine," she soothed. "I won't let you fall."

All of Todd's arguments evaporated in his throat with a small gargle. Now he could see why a flick of her fingers and a few small words from her could move Freddy so. It was the power of her eyes.   
Sara saw things in a unique way. She saw virtues in those who were assumed to have none. She saw potential in the chronic loser.   
And when she spoke, that sight inspired whatever small part she admired to come forward and rally to meet her expectations.   
Anything to avoid her disapointment.   
"A'ight," he said at last. "I'm'a help you get yo' stuff, 'kay?"   
Her smile dazzled his world. "It's a deal."

They sat in the back of the van, holding hands as if glued together. Their exchanges were soft, cryptic, and sporadic.   
They knew they were being watched.   
Kurt, certainly, made no secret of it. He sat backwards and rested his chin on his forearms as he observed them. Things made a lot more sense now that he knew the tall girl's true gender. The character of "Adrian Essel" had been - off... and certainly his lights weren't very **male**. But then, neither were the school's other individuals famous for their allegedly warped preferences.   
Now that he **knew**, for certain, that Sara was guaranteed female, a lot of little things made a world's worth of sense. The hairstyle, the affection for pretty things, the neat little artworks she occasionally doodled on the handouts at morning assembly... the distinctly feminine way she walked - even if it was with a pronounced stoop.   
And it definitely explained the delicate way she removed the dead rat someone left in her locker every morning.   
It certainly explained the burning wafts of crimson shame he'd observed one afternoon when she'd been collecting her lost articles under the supervision of Mr Hinkley.   
Those size eight flower-print underpants replacing the American flag outside Kurt's classroom had been her spares.   
Kurt, who had three younger sisters at home, knew all about some discrete feminine practices(1) and felt that he probably owed Pietro a few lumps for it. And he certainly owed her alleged 'friend', Janine Wiltshire, a scare in a dark alley for all the evil she'd wrought with her metal-bound mouth.   
She was the first person - besides the Professor - who hadn't reacted in one way or another when they saw him for the first time. He owed that quality of character something.   
Part of his debt would be repaid in not haranguing her boyfriend.   
Kurt was distracted from his observations by the sensation of someone else sharing his eyes. _Relax, Jean,_ he thought to the team telepath. _They're not stealing our emergency rations or putting athlete's balm in our spare uniforms(2)._   
Jean's mind flitted away from his, then attempted to ease more subtly back.   
_She's not sabotaging our equipment, either._   
This time, her mental presence departed for good with a growl.   
Kurt smirked, but kept it hidden from their guests' view.

"Don't worry about yer bag," said Logan as they piled out of the van, "I got-- **umph**."   
Charles resisted the temptation to snort at his friend's shock. Logan had clearly been expecting something a lot lighter.   
Logan tried again, lifting it with both hands. "You pack like this every day?"   
"I'm not in the habit of unpacking it," she said.   
Logan grunted. "Explains a lot."   
"Well, it is **one** kind of anti-theft device," Sara explained. "Are you all right, dear?"   
Todd Tolensky was broadcasting foreboding. "Yeah. I be fine..."   
"I **will** be fine, darling."   
"Sorry."   
They rounded the open door of the van, and Charles got his first look at Sara's physical body. Her skin could be said to be literally hanging off her, and she rubbed at itches or cramps. "Sara," he smiled. "Welcome. And you, too, Todd. You've done a commendable job of helping her."   
Well, that threw **him** for a mental loop. Charles allowed them to approach.   
"Was I correct in reading the name of your establishment to be an institute for **gifted** youngsters?" said Sara.   
"Yes. That's quite correct."   
"Ah." Her gaze lowered and her skin darkened. "Then you might have a time explaining my presence."   
"**Sara**..." chided Todd.   
"I **am** in Remedial Ed., dearest. You can explain me as a Savant but not--" a shiver of facial tic's overcame her, "--g-g-gifted."   
"That is among the things I wish to discuss," said Charles. "I have tea waiting for us in the library."   
Sara relaxed. She knew where she was with tea. Her mind filled with a sussuration of rules on how to sit, stand, hold cups, plates, forks and whatnot... as well as polite conversational subjects.   
All of this, Charles could pick up without any effort. Sara's mind, like so many others new to the world of strange mutant powers, was broadcasting at a very 'loud' level... and none but other psychics could pick it up. It was the principle behind Cerebro, in fact.   
There was more than tea in the library. Hank had laid on a number of high-protein, high-calorie treats. Evidently, he knew something.   
Sara sat primly and served up some pate on a cracker, then passed it to Todd. "Try some," she said. "It might do you a power of good." She did the same for herself. Demonstrating that it was safe. "Mmm... **very** rich. Not that I'm going to object..." she smiled, quite charmingly. "My horrendous physical adaptations are demanding richer foods of late."   
Todd's nibble was far more tentative than any attempt at daintiness. "Hey, yo, this **is** good." He ate the rest of the cracker and pate in one go.   
Sara almost glowed. "Try the camambert," she suggested. "It's rather sweet."   
"Uh..." Todd surveyed the array of foodstuffs.   
Sara blushed, selected the proper knife, and cut him a portion for another cracker. "Pardon, darling, I quite forgot. It's cheese."

(1) My mother always told me that it never hurts to carry a pair of spare undies in case of unexpected menstruation.   
(2) I figure Kurt might not know all the brand names, but you can think "Ben Gay".

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	19. 19

AN: Thanks again to the nice people who are reviewing.

Readerrr Grrrl: Glad you're enjoying the ride :) Remember to check out www(dot)nutfiction(dot)net even if you don't want to see as much of _Misfits_ as you can :D

Red Jeannie: I will whene'er I'm able. FFN can be mean to me, sometimes.

* * *

"Oh... right." There were only three types of cheese in the Brotherhood house. Kraft, Swiss, and moldy-beyond-recognition. Todd located the yellow food and spread a bit on a cracker.   
It was damn good, despite his qualms about eating in front of an enemy. You were vulnerable while eating and drinking in the tenements. To protect yourself, you'd have to drop your food and risk losing it.   
Todd made short work of the snack and did not take his eyes off the Professor.   
"We have had some experience with varying levels of metabolism. Mister Wagner for instance, has set the record."   
Todd grinned. "Him? Bet he don't eat as much as Freddy or Pietro."   
"You'd be surprised, Mr. Tolensky." Charles looked at Sara. "More tea?"   
"Please."   
Both men observed Sara's perfect posture and grace while she held the cup steady beneath the stream of green tea. _She's like a whole 'nother person, yo. That can't be healthy._ Charles could hear Todd fretting. The boy had another cracker in his hand and was distractedly flipping and rolling it around his fingers as if it were a coin.   
Sara glanced at him and looked pointedly at the cracker. "Todd, dearest..."   
He blushed. "Ah, sorry. Nervous habit." Sheepishly, he spread some cheese on it.   
"Quite allright." She turned back to Charles. "What exactly do you wish to talk to me about?"   
Charles leaned back in his wheelchair and folded his hands. "A number of things. I wish to answer any questions you may have about the X-gene, the Institute, or anything at all. I want you to relax, tell me about yourself. I know there's a great deal more to you than meets the eye."   
Sara glanced at the skin hanging off her left wrist. "What meets the eye is probably displeasing enough. You don't have to do any digging to find my faults. I can list them from memory."   
"Sara..." Todd whimpered. "Please -"   
"Let her talk, Mr. Tolensky," Charles interrupted gently.   
"But --"   
Xavier glanced at Todd. There was understanding and sympathy. And a desire to help. Charles needed to understand Sara without prying. He needed her to talk. He needed her to open up and speak freely. For her to know she **could**.   
Todd hung his head and remained quiet, nails digging into his palm at nearly every word his love used to describe herself. He was going to make her mother pay for every **syllable**.

* * *

Sara was a study in juxtaposition. Her posture and pose came from a textbook in ettiquite, knees close together, ankles crossed underneath the chair, back straight, elbows in, and a teacup perched in its saucer, held delicately in one hand.   
It was as if her mind conjured a lace-trimmed hat and a matching garden frock for herself, instead of the ratty, paint-stained shorts and the ill-fitting _Hello Kitty_ T-shirt. There were even delicate, open-toed sandals instead of the collapsible boots.   
Xavier had to shake off the mental picture and focus on the real one.   
"Well," said Sara. "At first, and foremost, I'm a great disapointment to my mother and her family. I grew out of being cute and never quite grew out of growing." She took a sip of her tea. "I've made it something of a career over the years. Mom always wanted the best, but - no matter what the school, I managed to get myself thrown out ot it."   
"Were you **happy** in them?" said Xavier.   
Sara seemed startled by the question. "I - I - uh..." Confusion drew her worried gaze to Todd.   
He nervously swallowed his mouthful of cracker-cheese-pate-cracker mini sandwiches. "Don' look at me, babe. You'd know better'n me."   
The tea came to rest in her lap as Sara stared into her memories.   
Xavier received the impression of quite a lot of boring corridors, the heady smell of boiled cabbages, and unmitigated, stultifying boredom.   
"No," she said at last, her tone wondering. "I suppose I wasn't very happy in any of them. I suppose the whole of them were rather... boring."   
"How so?" he said, sipping his tea.   
"Well, Lady Favisham's was a nice enough place. After a while, I was simply going to visit the horses..." A clear, vivid image almost inundated him. A gentle giant of a creature, not a classic beauty in horse terms, but brilliant in his own way. Sara called him Sergeant Bothari, and taught him dressage. Together, they were something of a hit at Renaissance fairs.   
She also remembered the laughter from her contemporaries still at Favisham's.   
An ugly horse and an ugly rider, they'd said, a perfect match.   
The whole mental flood took but an instant. Xavier made himself listen.   
"I suppose I put up with it all for Mom..." a slight tremour shivered across her face. "If I could make her proud, if I could make her smile... If I could be **worth** something again..."   
Todd began radiating anxiety, and flinched to comfort her.   
Xavier stilled him with one upraised hand. Stop. Wait. There was something... off... Altogether off, entirely, about her thoughts.   
_...never worth anything to **ANYONE**... Useless gawk of a girl!_   
It took all his control not to flinch at the mental presence.   
Then Sara's true-self trapped the gorgon and filed it away... a glimpse of a mental warehouse like the final scene in _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ Other errant things were caught and packed away. Feelings, mostly.   
"Sara... please stop that."   
"Hmn?" Her outside demeanor was shockingly blank. "What do you mean?"   
"I can sense you putting your emotions aside. It's very dangerous to bottle up your feelings like that."   
"They're not bottles, they're boxes," murmured Sara. "It's far better that I put them away. I simply won't be fit for company if I let them loose..."   
Xavier unconsciously echoed Todd's expression of worried concern. "How do you mean, unfit for company?"   
A pastiche of memories. Mother yelling at her until her body was barely her own any more. Twitching and spasming helplessly. Wanting to stop it, but being unable...   
"Nobody wants to look at a spastic wreck," Sara murmured.   
"Are you epileptic?"   
"No, no... I don't know..." Once she shook her head, it continued tic'ing 'no' as she spoke. A blush rose slowly over her face. "There **was** one episode when I cracked my head on a tile by accident. I was ten. Ray took me to the hospital and they ran some tests... Awful business. The end result was a handful of stitches, a small investigation, and the conclusion that I didn't exhibit any symptoms of epilepsy, cerebral palsy, or any other kind of neurological disorder whatsoever. Then Dad came home and it all cleared up, and nothing more was said."   
Another mental flood. Sara clearly adored her father.   
The memory served to still her tic's too... Odd.   
"And you never cracked your head again?"   
"Mother always stops when I begin to cry, now," said Sara. She kept control by Polite Conversation. The odd tic would escape, but they remained mostly facial ones. "She's always concerned that I never get hurt."   
_On the outside, anyway,_ Todd's thought was clear and loud. _Fuckin' bitch._ And the echo of Sara's mother, seemingly inhabiting Sara's body.   
"I see," said Xavier. This warranted further investigation. Later. Right now, he had to lead the subject onto more comfortable ground. "Tell me... is there anything you particularly **like** persuing? Something you're proud of?"   
"I find great peace in books and harps. Oh. And Chuckie."   
Tickling whiskers and soft fur... the pinpricks of tiny claws. A little creature in plastic tubes. "Oh. A **hamster**..." he blurted.   
Sara got a startled look. "Yes. He is. How--"   
"Sorry," he said. "I'm a telepath... and sometimes - thoughts can be very clear. Even when I have my guard up."

* * *

"Umm..." Sara wondered just how many of her other thoughts had gone through Xavier's guard. "Just how badly was I 'projecting'?" She blushed crimson. _The way you went on, you stupid girl, he's probably ready to send you back to that rat's nest you lied to me to spend the night in. Nobody wants a wreck like you in their home._   
But Xavier waved a hand to waive her concern. "You needn't worry. There was nothing at all embarrassing, I'm sure." _Disturbing and alarming, however..._ "Even if there was I'm not inclined to gossip."   
"Do you ever lower your guard on purpose?" Sara asked carefully. Xavier appeared to pause in thought.   
"I will not disagree that while unethical, I have used my powers to gain an edge over adversaries," he answered, just as carefully. "I'm sure Todd can tell you if he already hasn't."   
The amphibian boy flushed and appeared to critique the rug pattern.   
"He can erase memories," Todd muttered. "And tell when somebody's lyin'. Dunno if he can do any Vulcan tricks like puttin' someone to sleep, but I do know he's the main reason Mags wears a bucket on his head."   
When all else fails, crack a joke. That was Todd's way of dealing with stress. Xavier felt a twinge of guilt for adding to it. Sara was looking at him, head tilted gracefully in concern.   
"What happened between you and the Brotherhood?" she asked. There was an awkward silence. Sara guessed she'd stepped onto very uncomfortable turf.   
"We just different, yo," Todd spoke. Xavier appeared to relax, obviously he'd been waiting for Todd to go first. "I don't think they're all bad, though, just jerks sometimes. This ain't one of those times," he said quickly, looking up at Xavier cautiously. Todd fidgeted, trying to come up with a way to better explain why the two teams were divided. "It's not just that we have different opinions 'bout humans... guess it's first impressions too.   
"Me, well... I came here that one night for two reasons. One 'cause Mystique told me if I didn't steal for her, she'd kll me, and two, Summers invited me. Well, not really, I guess I sorta badgered him into inviting me. Still, he did. So I went. I expected them to be all nice and stuff, even if it was just forced - just to be polite you know? Maybe then I coulda told them about Mystique. Instead they decided they didn't really want to talk to me unless they liked my powers or somethin. I was tested and offered a chance to stay, but at that point I felt I'd been yanked around on my chain enough. I tried getting them back, got my ass kicked, and left."   
Todd wasn't meeting Xavier's gaze. He was guessing it was less than pleased. "Since then it was always like they was too good for me. For all of us. Lance never got talked to at all and Freddy had this thing with Jean that ended badly. Pietro just doesn't like Daniels period. We don't belong with them. But it's not like we really wanna kill 'em or nothin'. Well, most of the time. Maybe irritate them once a day..."   
He looked at his sneakers, surprised at himself. He was admitting the truth for once about his feelings toward the Xmen - to himself as much as anyone else. All because he wanted to be good... to not scare her away from someone who could help her.   
Love indeed was a powerful thing.

* * *

"Very many mistakes were made," said Xavier. "Cerebro was - quirky... at the time. When you came to us, Mr Tolensky, I had to be sure my readings were accurate. The rest..." he trailed off, looking distraught. One hand flinched in a memory, reaching minimally out for an event that was no longer happening. "It was a cascade of errors. I deeply regret it."   
Sara watched Todd, now, as he sized up Xavier's body language. "A'ight," he said. "Plus the whole thing of sneakin' in to steal yo' stuff didn't do no good. Over an' gone, now. Nuttin' to be done." He helped himself to some more pate and crackers.   
Sara felt uniquely jealous of his ability to leave the past where it stood. Perhaps she could learn it from him, one day. As it was, her nightmares were plaguing her. "I don't like hurting people," she said. "Especially my friends. I have so very few of them, you see... I--" her throat stuck. Sara had to sip her tea. "(hem) I don't have to fight - if I don't want to, do I?"   
"No," said Xavier. "However, I would like to make sure that you could defend yourself... should an event arise where peaceful intentions are... inadequate."   
"Of course. 'Be prepared' is a motto of mine." Her tic made her mouth twitch a grin. "Were it not for a quirk of genetics, I could have been a scout."   
Todd's face was easily readable. It said, _Not funny, babe._   
She changed the subject after another sip of tea. "The question remains, Professor... how are you going to pass off someone like **me** as gifted?"   
His look was one of sympathetic pain, as if she'd just maimed herself for all to see. How odd. "I do believe that there will be no need for any 'passing off'," he said. "I haven't been prying, but you are a very intelligent young lady and--"   
Sara burst out in laughter, and tried to quell it with rising desperation. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Perhaps you didn't pay attention. I'm in Remedial **Ed.** I fail at everything I try to put my hand to," _Including pleasing my Mom..._ "I'm **adequate** with the harp, but that's **it**."   
"You're wrong, yo," said Todd. "I seen your site. You do brilliant stuff every day, sweetie. Yo' make movies, an' you make toons, an' you design stuff alla time. Hell, yo; you runnin' five businesses in yo' spare time. That's gotta take **some** smarts."   
"Just bookkeeping," she murmured. "...following the instructions. Anybody can do it."   
"I can't," he argued. "Sho' I can draw a bit, but - I ain't got no patience to try a flip-book, let alone script, draw and animate no flashtoon. I can't make no **zombies**... no scale models o' Bayville fo' no monster flick... You got mo' in there--" he tapped his head, "--than I do. I know it. I **seen** it."   
Sara started shaking from her toes to her head. It rose over her like a tide. Her head started tic'ing 'no' and her limbs rose of their own voluition to ward off some ghost attacker. All her boxes were trembling... giving way...   
And some fuzzy blanket descended on her mind, wrapping her in comfort and a haze of pleasant feelings. The outside world and its stresses were oddly distant.   
"HEY!"   
"Please remain calm, Mr Tolensky... I **had** to do this."   
"What are you **DOING** to her?"   
"Do you recall... Sara mentioning a Grand Mal type episode? It's nearly happened again."   
"...shit..."   
"She's dangerously close to a nervous breakdown, Todd. She has to vent her -ah- boxed feelings gradually over a long time in order to heal safely. Any direct breach at this stage... could hurt her."   
Strange, that she didn't feel anything on hearing this.   
"Can yo' help her?"   
"Not tonight... and definitely not by force. I can only place a stopgap measure, for now. I can't truly begin until she's adjusted to her physical change. That alone is trauma enough."   
_I'm traumatized... anaesthetized... pretty close to phillosophized..._ part of her mind sung. Damn. She needed a harp. _And I just now realized... things ain't exactly harmonized... in my psychological paradise._   
"Sara... come back to us."   
The blanket lifted from her head. "Are you quite certain there's nothing remotely Psycorps(1) about this operation?" she said.   
"I had to help," he said. "You were at risk of hurting yourself."   
"I suppose I need quite a few years of therapy, hm?"   
"You wouldn't be the first of my students to do so," Xavier's smile was warm and relaxing. "If you'd like to play a harp to blow off steam, I believe there's one in the music room. May I show you?"   
"A real, orchestral harp?" Her fingers twitched. "Can I meet her?"   
"Of course," he said. "I'd love to hear you play."   
Sara finished her tea. "Then by all means, lead on."   
The music room was dominated by a grand piano, beautifully maintained. The harp, however, was lurking in a neglected corner by a potted aspidestra. She was the first Roccoco(2) harp she'd ever seen. Sara laid her hands on the strings. "Untouched since she was bought here," she murmured. "The strings were slackened, thank goodness, but she's been kept cold..." Sara tsked. "Some sunshine for you, my dear." Without thinking, Sara moved the harp into the afternoon sun, found a seat, and tightened her strings by feel. A quick strum helped her ensure they were in tune.   
She sang **wonderfully**. 

Todd watched as her face moved into a calm that was warm, rather than eerie blankness that scared him, before.   
"Let's make our introductions," whispered Sara. Then she started to **Play**.   
All Todd knew was that it was something by Mozart. Something cyclical and intricate and her fingers never missed a note. She was **amazing**. Her face had taken on an inner glow. _Wow,_ he thought. _This must be what she looks like when she's naturally asleep._   
The first number finished, Sara played a chaotically fast piece that was over in a few seconds.   
"Twenty-four seconds," said Sara. "I **must** be stressed."   
"And quite understandably so," said Xavier.

(1) Babylon 5 "The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father..." and, of course, Bester the bastid.   
(2) An era rather famous for putting decoration wherever possible... and in some cases, where it wasn't posible.

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	20. 20

AN: Thanks again to the lovely people who review I like attention :)

Choas Babe: Vlad is going to get his revenge, but since I haven't written that, yet, you're all going to have to wait.

Readerrr Grrrl: ::grin:: glad you're enjoying the whole thing. It's nice to know I'm getting it right.

* * *

Todd started with the realization that her music had curled him into a position of relaxation achieved only when vegged out or unconscious. The toes of his sneakers were off the floor and resting on the edge of the piano bench he perched on, wrists comfortably across each other on the smooth polished surface as he leaned forward. Self-consciously, he straightened, planting his feet on the floor as if it made him appear more solid. "That was beyond beautiful, snookums." He noted how the scars on her arm, though hard to see for all the scales, matched with the direction of the strings. Ah, so the harps were responsible. Always good to be paranoid and doublecheck.  
Sara was letting her fingers rest from their effort. Todd's body ached selfishly for her to continue; even if it was to reach up and pluck random strings. People were their truest selves when they were creating. He wanted to see her glow again.  
Todd kept his request trapped neatly between the folds of his tongue. She was hurting, falling apart on the inside, stressed from the effects of ... hell, everything. Maybe she should lie down? Was it just his imagination or were the scales on her face turning a little grey?  
"You need to lie down or somethin?" he asked, walking over to her. Her scales shifted in the light to a healthier colour and he was left feeling overprotective and fussy. Her nervous smile gave him the suspicion that even her colors were being used as a mask to lessen his concern.  
"Don't worry, dear, I'm just unwinding. This is good for me right now." Her hand absently plucked out a tune from Enya. She could play by ear, not just by memorization - as if the spirited display beforehand had not proven that. There had been nothing mechanical or parrotlike about the way her fingers had moved across those strings. It was as if she'd been rewriting the music in her head as she played it.

* * *

Xavier was both surprised and impressed. This was Sara when she wasn't trying to be anyone else, or maintain some image impressed on her from numerous rehearsals at varying finishing schools. This was Sara being herself... and she thought of it as becoming the music.  
_Of all the mutants I've interviewed,_ he mused, _I had to find one with more layers than an onion._  
Sara segued from Enya to a piece she'd composed whilst he'd been helping her. It was a jumpy tune, something easily capable of being something from Ben Folds Five(1). From there, she moved into _Totacca and Fuge in B Minor_, and then, oddly enough, something by the Beatles. No, by **a** Beatle. _Beautiful Night_ by Sir Paul McCartney.  
"Hello, Gladys," Sara whispered, giving the part nearest her shoulder a head-and-shoulder hug. "Very pleased to make your acquaintance." She shifted into an improv usually suited for the higher class of restaurants and a grand piano. Music to be spoken over. "She really needs someone to play her every day. Such a warm-hearted harp needs love."  
The idea of dangling that bait over her flickered briefly through his mind. No. Sara had been manipulated by enough people, twisted and warped via rumour into something ugly and vile. She needed a place where she could bloom. "We don't have anyone here who can play, properly," he said. "You're more than welcome to visit. Anytime."  
There was a barely-conscious _Ha!_ from Todd. Self-satisfied and confident.  
"If you decide to stay with us," he said. "There will have to be tests. Nothing like the test Mr Tolensky went through, of course."  
"Damn straight," growled Todd.  
Charles cleared his throat. "We must find the limits of your abilities, what unique needs you may have, and any ideosynchratic reactions to medication... as well as ascertain for certain the true bounds of your intelligence."  
"I don't test very well," she said, moving into phrases from _Every Little Thing_ "And as for reactions to medication, I have an entire list."  
"Don't give her no sedatives, yo," said Todd. A mental image from a story, transformed into nightmares, flashed briefly into Xavier's head.  
"Those tests can wait - except for the physical. It's been my understanding that physical transformations such as your own can be... stressful. Therefore, I must insist that you see our resident physician. And I must warn you that he, too, has been changed by his X-gene."  
"You mean the big, burly fellow trying to hide past the door? I can see his shadow." Sara smiled.  
_Very observant for a girl with her eyes apparently closed,_ thought Xavier.

Todd, of course, turned to look. He'd heard about Mr McCoy's transformation from Tabby, but it was another thing to see the guy knuckle into a room.  
"Ah. Hello," he said. "I'm--"  
"Dr. McCoy!" Sara stood from her playing and skipped over to greet him. "I'm shocked. The Bayville Herald(2) actually ran a true story." Her hand reached to pet his fur. "Ah. May I?"  
"So long as you permit me to inspect those intriguing scales of yours."  
"Just don't pull on the skin that's still stuck on. It kinda hurts." She touched him, and her scales turned a uniform blue and sprouted thick fur. "Oh **dear**..."  
"Fascinating," murmured Hank. "Complete textural and chromatic adaptation." He carefully selected one 'hair'.  
"I can **feel** that," marvelled Sara. "It's like having a fingerprint on a freckle."  
"No doubt, your senses are enhanced at the tactile level." He let go and watched as she reverted to aqua scales. Next, he fingered the shed skin. "This was already adapted to change," he murmured. "It's thicker by far than most human skin."  
"I've had an opportunity for comparison," said Sara. "Todd's undergoing a shedding session, too. The poor dear."  
Todd relaxed a little. These two were speaking friend-to-friend or doctor-to-patient. There was no 'thing' between them. He rubbed an itch, absently shedding flake-lets around him.  
"Ah, then I might want to see both of you in my infirmary, anon. Comparative notes, you understand. You are the only two mutants so far who shed their skin in one go."  
"You have my permission, of course," she said. "Any information could help another mutant, later on. Todd? Care to step under the microscope?"  
"It ain't as if he can do much," Todd shrugged. "Whatever, yo. I'm wit' you."  
It was fascinating to watch Sara. Her entire posture changed depending on whom she was with at the time. Around Todd - when she wasn't having mini-breakdowns - she was nervous, yet at ease, and happy. Near Xavier, she was reserved and cultured. And with Hank - she was companionable and chatty.  
"Reports of your transformation have been ludicrously amplified," Sara was saying, "not to mention warped, bent, spindled and mutilated."  
Hank chuckled. "I was temporarily incapacitated by my sudden transformation, yes," he said. "That's what comes from trying to inhibit a natural process, alas. Gradual changes are easier on the physique **and** the psyche."  
"I can imagine. It's bad enough having nightmares about eating birds. I can't imagine going on any rampages."  
"Birds?" Hank raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky it was merely birds."  
"Oh **my**..."  
He gestured them into the infirmary, which was filling with bizarre gadgets.  
Sara was instantly fascinated, probing gently with her fingertips and occasionally matching the surfaces. "Am I right in guessing these are scanning analysis machines, designed to view the inside of a patient in situ? It must work by magnifying ambient radiation..."  
_What?_ thought Todd.  
"That's exactly correct," said Hank. "Almost to the word what young mister Walkingbird had to say..."  
"Who?"  
"You might know him better as 'Forge'," supplied Hank.  
"**Two** correct stories," said Sara. "How MIB(3)..."

(1) I love that band. And They Might Be Giants.  
(2) The Bayville Herald of my mind has **VERY** close ties with the National Enquirer.  
(3) In case ya didn't get it - MIB featured the idea that the trash-tabloids are reporting the **truth**.

* * *

Hank was bringing out the best in her. Todd couldn't help but feel just a little useless and he chided himself for it. He wanted her to be happy right? To feel comfortable here if here was where she could stay. Lord knew he wasn't going to be welcome to visit as often as possible. Oh he'd visit alright, come hell or soapy water, but at least she'd have company when he couldn't be there.  
The doctor was typing up a blank medical document on the computer. Todd glanced over and saw blinking windows on the toolbar. AIM. The guy had time for instant messaging. Who knew? Some small part of him wondered, but theory was disrupted when Hank turned from the document and walked toward him. "Can I see your arm?"  
Todd extended it carefully. Hank tucked his hand and wrist beneath his elbow and ran a finger against the flaking skin. He looked like he was just getting over a sunburn, save that the peeling skin was papery and stiff. "Fascinating. It's at least two layers of epidermis that's peeling off, not just the stratum corneum. That's a lot of skin and nutrients stripped off you. Combined with the needs of your metabolism... have you been feeling faint at all?"  
"Well..." Todd started awkwardly, feeling understandably iffy about telling the X-geek doctor about possible weaknesses. Sara filled Hank in.  
"As expected," She told Hank, apparently more trusting of the doctor-patient bond than Todd was. "Mr. Maximoff was a very taxing irritant this morning, both physically and mentally. Todd used up his energy defending my honor in a certain incident that proved Maximoff's utter lack of decency. And the Brotherhood's been running low on funds for necessary items, so Todd's energy wasn't up to par in the first place."  
"Ah," said Hank, already seeing in his mind's eye the battle which had - for whatever reason - unfolded and the obvious outcome. "He collapsed?"  
Todd was a peculiar shade of red that had nothing to do with his powers. "Sara," he murmured plaintively. She touched his shoulder gently and her hand mirrored the fabric. He had a smile for her that was meant to convince he wasn't upset, merely ashamed.  
"No need for that," chuckled McCoy, taking a sample of Todd's skin and enclosing it in a plastic dish to look at later. "No power is without its physical consequence. I'm sure you still drove home the lesson."  
"Sara did, actually. After she scared him off to school in his pajamas, she cleaned the staircase with him."  
Now it was Sara's turn to blush while Hank laughed.

* * *

"...it was probably hysterical strength," Sara muttered, turning dark with mortification. "Nothing really fabulous."  
"Yo, I'd be shocked if Pie's shut up about it, yet." Todd grinned. "**Man** I wish I had video on that. It was poetry, babe."  
"No, dear, this is poetry," Sara took a recitational pose(1). "There was a young man from Calcutta--"  
"MISS **ADRIEN**!" Both teachers barked at once.  
"It was **clean**..." said Sara.(2) "G-rated, even."  
Hank was looking decidedly - poofy. "Nevertheless, you've frightened a few years' growth out of me. I thought you'd spent numerous years in **finishing** schools."  
"Quite. I spent a majority of my time correcting the impossible anatomy and mythos." _And,_ she added silently, _I knew a few girls who actively dispelled some myths themselves - and paid the price._ Quite a few young ladies in those man-free zones had turned up "mysteriously" pregnant. Sara knew for a fact that it wasn't especially mysterious at all.  
Hanks' hair stood on end. All of it. "Oh **my**..."  
"...meep..." said Todd.  
"I **told** you I knew all the words, dear. I just don't like using them. **OW**..."  
"Sorry. I was trying to break some off," Hank indicated the patch of skin in his forceps. "It **did** appear to be hanging by a thread."  
"Appearances are deceiving, dear Doctor. I'd recommend industrial-strength clippers."  
"Why?"  
"Because I tried this morning with ordinary shears. Not a **dent**."  
Hank bought out a small board and an obsedian scalpel(3). "Try not to flinch..."  
Both she and Todd held their breaths as the blade swiped over her dead skin.  
"Success!" Hank held aloft a small chunk of her skin. "Into the microscope with **you**."  
The thing he put it in bore little resemblance to a microscope. In fact, it was tied into the computer, as a window popped up with some intriguing graphics.  
"That looks rather like an instructional picture of the entire epidermal system," noted Sara(4). "Apart from the ragged edge..."  
"No wonder you had such trouble," noted Hank. "You've been growing an entirely new epidermal system, more suited to your -ah- gifts."  
"Goodness, I hope I don't do this every month," she sighed. "I'll be **ruined**..."

Todd laid his arm across her shoulders. _You'll weather it, babe. You stronger than yo' think._ He daren't say as much out loud. Not after the last time he'd hurt her with a compliment.  
"I doubt if further episodes will be so - extreme," soothed Hank.  
"Ngh..."  
Todd winced. He'd **felt** that one. Her skin - bunched - under his fingers. "Mo' cramps," he explained. "Sweetie's been havin' a bad time of it." He tried to soothe it by rubbing with the grain.  
Hank - whose hair was finally settling back down - looked appalled. "I think applied heat should help," he said, "but first, to be certain, a look with the macroscope." He tapped the device that had fascinated Sara earlier. "How did you divine its purpose, anyway?"  
"Nothing special," she said, sliding off the bed she'd been sitting on and making her way to the center of the thing. "Anyone who reads _Popular Mechanics_ and _Omni_ can do it."  
Todd put his hand down where she'd been, and encountered a patch of stickiness. He looked down and discovered it was crimson. A billion wrong things gallumphed through his brain in a picosecond. "Uh. Doc?"  
Hank looked. "Oh dear. Perhaps you'd like to adjourn, Miss Adrien, to re-adjust yourself? Full facilities are availlable."  
Sara looked down, twisting her shorts so that she could see the deep red stain. "Well... **SPLAT**," she sighed. "I should never have asked myself what else could go wrong."  
Hank handed her a packet, a generic grey pair of track-pants, and panties to match. "Surprise attack?"  
Sara was darkening so much she almost looked like a walking shadow. "...first..."  
"Oh **fuck**..." muttered Todd. Some swell date this was turning out to be. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Make it all better, **please**... I'm so sorry, babe..._ "I'm sorry." He hid his face behind his hands. Why did he have to screw things up?  
"Hardly your fault, dear," Sara's voice drifted through the door. "Dame Nature (ick) likes to periodically remind us (oh, charming) as to why she's called a 'mother'. ...nngh..." She sighed. "Surprisingly, though... this has has been a better day than average."  
When she came out, tears were running slowly down her face as she held a bundle that had formerly been her shorts and underwear. "Uhm?"  
"Laundry hamper. We'll take care of things. Free of charge."  
She dumped the bundle. "I should feel proud. I'm a complete biological woman as of this moment. It's a rite of passage in some cultures," her voice was quavering and her bottom lip was quaking. "Some even have a party." She hiccoughed a sob. "Oh, I just feel so wretched..."  
Hank sighed. "Most of the girls here prefer a pint of Ben and Jerry's 'cookie dough' ice cream, some painkillers, and an intense bonding session with chocolates and some of the sappier DVDs."  
"...but I hate those movieeeeeeessssss..." Sara whimpered.  
Todd gave off staring at his bloody fingertips, wiped them on the sheet, and literally sprang to Sara's side. "It's coo'... it's coo'... It's gonna be coo', babe. It's okay. Ya don't gotta do nuttin' ya don't want, a'ight? It's coo'... just please don't cry? I fix it, I swear." _Whoah. Where'd **that** come from?_ "It's gonna be okay..."  
"It's hormones, dear," she quavered. "There's no fixing hormones." Sara clung to him. "Nevertheless... you're a supreme help."

(1) Back straight, right hand cupped under the left, so that the fingers form a spiral. THis linkage is pressed up against the diaphragm to help the speaker enunciate.  
(2) Apparently, (though I've never heard them) the young man from Calcutta is the source of many a filthy limeric.  
(3) Obsedian blades are **WAY** sharper than ordinary scalpels. I can testify that broken edges are wickedly sharp - having cut myself open on one. I didn't feel it until **after** I'd bandaged it and mopped up all the blood.  
(4) Yes, Sara reads her textbooks. Usually within the first few weeks of the school year. After that, she pretty much has them memorised or - in extreme cases - corrected with pencil.

* * *

AN: They stopped me from posting this for THREE FARGIN' DAYS so they could add completely useless option boxes into their stupid little 'horizontal rule' window. And to add insult to injury - the colour option just doesn't work. Yeesh. 


	21. 21

AN: Thanks again and again to the lovely people who review Squee!

Readerrr Grrrl: Tell all your friend to review me, too ;) It'll make my day.

And now to try and post another chapter before FFN goes down AGAIN so it can install more download-clogging features. I'm halfway tempted to abuse the Hrule tool and start doing rainbow seperators... what do you think?

* * *

Todd held her close, running his fingers through her hair and anything he could think of that would make her feel loved and safe in his arms. He looked almost more upset than she was. "Helping? What am I doing to help, yo? I ain't doin' nothin' helpful --" he fretted.  
_Todd,_ Xavier sent to him. _Take a deep breath._  
He did, and then he exhaled and felt a bit calmer. His hands were still shaking. _I'm sorry, yo,_ he felt the need to apologize to Xavier.  
_There's no need to apologize at all, Mr. Tolensky. You're demanding too much of yourself. It really is enough for her that you're there._  
_Ha. You've already admitted she needs more help than just me,_ Todd returned bitterly. _What do I do? Just screw things up. Sooner or later if not already._  
_Yes, she needs help, but you are part of it. She needs people who care about her. You're one of them._ Xavier told him firmly. _Please try to see that you are important to her, Todd. Leaving her would only serve to reinforce the negative ideas she has about herself._  
Todd clung tighter to her. _Who said I was gonna leave her, yo?_ he snapped.  
_The implication was there, Todd. Under the layer of thinking she'd be better off with someone else?_  
The amphibian shuddered. Telepaths just freaked him out.  
_Well, that's not gonna happen, n'less she wants me to._ He seemed to come back to himself and didn't hang on so tightly. Instead he walked Sara over to the med-table and tried to coax her to sit down.  
Hank walked over to Xavier, seeing the worried expression on the man's face. "Both of them have some things to work out," sighed Hank. "Doesn't take mind-reading to see that."  
_Professor!_ chirped Jamie's voice in the man's head, sounding urgent. No real surprise in itself, the boy thought many a thing urgent - particularly when it came to the matter of the remote control being stolen from him when Teen Titans was on. But there was a different sort of urgency to this tone, something was wrong.  
_Yes, Jamie?_  
_Mr. Lance is on the phone. I tried giving it to Kitty, but she hung up on him and he called back and yelled at me for giving it to her since he trying to call you and not her. I think he yelled at her too... ummm... he's still on the phone and wants to know where the 'beeep' Todd is._ Jamie conveyed. _Except he didn't say 'beep'._ Even his **thoughts** were tattling.  
Xavier sighed. _I'll talk to Mr. Lance, Jamie. Leave the phone where it is until I tell you I have it._ There was a phone on the wall. He wheeled himself over to it and picked it up. "Hello, Mr. Alvers."  
Todd winced. "Oh maaaaaaaan," he complained, hiding his face again.  
"You have some fucking nerve," Alvers growled. Xavier put up his shields to ward off the level of anger rolling off the young man's psyche. It gave him a migraine dealing with stubborn minds. "Bad enough you come around and kidnap Todd's girl once your fancy machine registers her, now you take Todd too? He finally good enough for you now that he's leverage to keep Sara from running?"  
"Hardly, Mr. Alvers. Todd insisted on coming," Xavier said, raising a hand against Todd's wave of panic at these words. "He also did not trust the **invitation** we gave Sara to learn about her **options at the Institute**. But that was a distrust based on how he cared for her, whereas you seem to delight in finding us at fault for as much as possible." His voice was calm and cut like paper. Todd whistled lowly.  
"Ladeedah, keepin outta **this** one," he sang quietly.  
He didn't have to be an amphibian to feel the temperatures drop.

* * *

"It's been going around," said Lance, remembering the Snowshovel Incident. And the words Kitty had had to say when he asked for Baldy. It was going to take more than a posy of wildflowers to get over **that** one. "Look. We know how you guys are for busting in on stuff, okay? And Todd... is not well."  
"I know," said Xavier. "That's why Sara insisted he see our physician."  
_Ohfuck..._ "No shit?"  
"I am not a man given to mistruths, Mr. Alvers."  
"Do tell him we haven't been locked in any basements," said Sara in the distance.  
"Yo, dawg, we a'ight. Chill!"  
Lance actually found himself sighing with relief. That was Todd. Nobody else in Bayville could use so few real words. "Just - just tell the little runt to leave a note, next time, 'kay?"  
"You're welcome," iced Xavier.  
_...fffffuuuuuuuuuuck..._

Sara had recovered - or at least, been distracted from feeling upset by Forge's gadgetry. One hand was under the macroscope and the other clung tight to Todd while she twisted herself around to see what was going on.  
Currently, they were watching her skin grow. The process of ambient radiation magnification and interpretation made her flesh glass on the screen. Translucent hues layered atop one another could be peeled, magnified, or augmented as the case desired. The formation of an entire epidermis was something to watch.  
"Oh, they're not really scales, are they? Look," Sara let go of Todd long enough to tweak a control. "See? They're clusters of pigment cells and some **very** interesting muscle fibres. No wonder I'm cramping."  
"Ambient heat would aid the both of you, I suspect," said Hank. He left the controls to turn up the heat in the room.  
Todd stuck his peeling hand under the reserve screen, looking at the flaking desert of his own hide. "Cool, yo."  
"When you children have **quite** finished playing..." said Hank. "I'd like to complete the physical, if I may?"  
Sara blushed. "Terribly sorry." She sat in the middle of the machine.  
Hank adjusted the dials. A standard anatomical view, gathering vital statistics without touching the patient. "Heart good, lungs clear, liver healthy, kidneys healthy, no sign of disease or congenital defects. Loose ligaments, but one expects that in tall ladies... Excellent teeth."  
"I just look after them," said Sara.  
"Ahem...?" Todd raised an eyebrow.  
"Oh. Uh. Thankyou."  
"And now to the brain... The good Professor filled me in on your earlier episodes, so..." The screen filled with her skull.  
"You can't see my ears on that thing, can you? Mother always says I look like a loving cup with my ears out in the open."  
"...(coughbitchcough)..." Todd muttered into his hand.  
Hank was beginning to concur. "I assure you, I'm focussing intently on your cerebellum." Ah. Lovely. Plenty of folds and valleys. All the better for the kind of surface area that made a genius. And, Hank was pleased to note, no sign of any kind of mis-wiring. Which meant that her episodes were of an emotional nature. "You'll be pleased to know you're in excellent health. A tad dehydrated, but easily remedied. I'd also recommend a high-protein, high-carb diet while you're undergoing your transition. Only take sugar if you're craving it."  
Sara slid out of the machine. "Your turn, dear."  
"Do I gotta?" said Todd.  
"It doesn't hurt," she soothed. "And it only looks at your insides."

Todd walked into the machine like a man heading for his execution. _This is it. This is where it all goes wrong..._  
"Oh, **Todd**..." Sara whispered. "Your poor bones..."  
He knew what she was seeing. Lumps and bumps on his skeleton. The long-term evidence of a violent past. Green-stick fractures, spiral breaks, shattered long-bones and bludgeoned ribs... he had it all. Even a crack on his head or three. "It's all in the past," he said. "Been an' gone. Nuttin' to be done."  
"Someone tried to **strangle** you," said Sara. "You could still press charges."  
"He already in jail fo' worse," Todd said, not wanting to look at her face. Seeing her feeling for him, for his past pains, would be too much.  
"To misquote a movie, dear, your body is a map of pain."  
"Bygones, babe. It's over, now."  
"Don't you want the ones who did this put away?"  
"Pops is dead," he said, his voice empty. "He ain't hurtin' no-one, now."  
A tiny gasp. "**Oh**... I see."  
Clever kid like Sara could put it together, Todd knew. She could envision a brutal man who beat his family finding out his freakish son was more freakish than he could have believed. She could see that man flying into a rage... a protective mother, listening to her instincts...  
Todd saw it all first-hand again. He'd been just a boy, barely past ten, watching in horror with his hands clinging to the cheap plastic of the kitchen table - as his Mom put a knife into Pops, stabbing again and again until the monster went down.  
She might not have been able to divine the next part, where Mom, in a panic, ran the same knife across her throat - afraid of going to jail.  
"Mr Tolensky, have you been eating regularly?" said Hank.  
"Yeah?" he answered. _If yo' count bugs._  
"Odd..." Hank frowned. "You're showing signs of malnutrition."  
"That ain't right," he said. "Bugs are pure protein."  
"Darling," said Sara. "You can starve to death on just protein. The human body needs other things. Even a **mutant** one."  
_Pietro, you stupid fuck,_ thought Todd. _I'm'a gettin' even all **over** yo' sorry ass._

* * *

The house was quiet. Neither Pietro nor Tabitha were home yet, their absence made all the more noticeable by the lack of an annoying kid brother bouncing off the walls. Lance hadn't bothered to apologize before hanging up the phone. He had thumped his forehead against the wall a few times, in some odd form of penance. Making an ass of himself in front of Kitty was bad enough, but it hadn't been justified even toward Xavier.  
The man was a little hoity toity for Alvers' taste, but he'd given him a chance in the past. In Lance's mind that equated to deserving a smidgeon of respect. It was also a question of pride. He was the Brotherhood's acting leader, Xavier was the X-geeks'. That made them more or less on the same level, right? That meant some maturity was expected of him as well. And he'd gone and blown it in one moment of anger and panic.  
Lance stalked into the kitchen to find Freddy guiltily staring at the food Sara had left behind. "What's with you? Stop moping." He yanked open the fridge and grabbed a bottled water. Water helped make the headaches go away. "There's no way she'd stay over there. Not if Todd's here."  
"What if he stays?" Freddy pondered. Lance coughed on his water and had to turn toward the sink and spit part of it out.  
"He won't," Lance croaked. "Todd's not going to lose his head over a girl. And Sara's too smart to fight. How bad do you think Wolverine will scare her? He scared Rogue."(1) Both of them winced; as if by speaking the goth girl's name Lance had jinxed all possibility of Sara's return.  
Fred put his chin on the table top, his expression making him look for all the world like a noble wolfhound. "I hope she comes back. I wanted to cook her something nice. She's never tasted my cooking. It's one of the few things I'm good at."  
Alvers looked at him thoughtfully, wondering if he was right in guessing that Todd hadn't been the only one who'd fallen for Sara. She paid attention to both of them, was sincere and female. It wasn't as if they could afford to be picky. And Todd had gotten to her first. Most likely because Freddy was shyer. Being open about his feelings had backfired on him in a big way; enough to make him taciturn about them. Todd's openness had and still did backfire on him horribly, but he was too hopeful and too used to pain to be beaten down. Therein lied the difference.  
A door slammed open and a whirlwind entered the kitchen, sending plastic cups rolling and paper napkins in a flurry. The fridge opened, slammed, bounced open again to swing out on its hinges. Lance shut it with a growl as Pietro finally became visible. He leaned against the far wall with a sandwich in his hand. "So I heard all about it. X-geeks get the freako, we get free food. Where's Toad? Passed out still?"  
"He's over there with her."  
Pietro stopped chewing. He stared at Lance and then swallowed. "He's doing what over there exactly?"  
"Dunno," Lance said coolly. "Might be that he's just making sure she's okay."  
"Christ, she's a meal and a money ticket. I don't know what else he sees in her. Here." Pietro reached into his pocket and pulled out two thin wallets. One was purple and had a silver clasp, the other was blue with green flowers. "Donations from a few admiring fans of mine. About fifty bucks in each one. I can get more. Tell him we don't need her."  
Lance snorted in disgust and anger but Freddy lost his temper and stood up, sending the chair crashing and the table to wobbling.  
"Ha! Nice one, Blobbo--ACK!"  
Fred had moved with surprising speed for his size, hoisting Pietro up by the neck. "Whoa!" Lance cried and stepped forward, trying to think of how to calm the boy down.  
"Putmedown!"  
"Sara's a friend, not a meal ticket you dumb fuckhead!"  
Lance blinked. It was the first time he, or any of them, had heard Fred use the 'f' word louder than a mutter.  
"She may not be your friend, but she is my friend - and Todd's and maybe even Lance's! And she didn't have ta do all this for us, even after you went and spied on her!"  
_Fuck. Is Pietro turning purple?_ Alvers gulped, feeling lost as to what to do. Freddy was really pissed off.  
"I oughta pound your face in for all the stuff you've done to her, but she wouldn't like me to do that. She says it's not me an' she's right. So here's something I think I would do." Freddy grabbed the kitchen scissors. Lance flinched and Pietro squealed like a dying rabbit, squirming even harder to get away.  
Snip. Snip. Clatter. With a proud smile, Fred let the scissors drop onto the table as two white pieces of hair fell to the ground. Pietro blinked in shock, one hand going up to feel his shorn forelocks that he so carefully swept back and gelled every morning. They were still gelled enough to stick straight up and back, but short and tufted at the end - giving him the appearance of a severely disturbed owl.  
Lance stared at Freddy, who was still beaming, at the two tufts of hair on the floor, and Pietro's shell-shocked expression. First there was a moment of immense relief that no-one was dead or in need of an ambulance. Then he leaned against the doorway and burst into gales of hysterical laughter.

"Just how long have you been living on only bugs?" Hank asked.  
"Um... about two weeks - no wait, had some dinner last night. There were noodles and rice at that place you and me went, Sara." He'd inhaled that stuff in even more quantities than the bugs.  
"You've been drinking plenty of water I hope?"  
"Yeah, I ain't makin' that mistake twice," Todd assured him. "I thought I'd be okay on just bugs," he tried to explain. "I mean it would've saved food for the others and they wouldn't have had ta worry about one more mouth to feed."  
Hank winced and exchanged glances with Xavier. "I take it you've been having financial problems?"  
"Word, yo. Way much. Sara saved our necks when she bought groceries."  
"I see," Xavier said, raising an amused eyebrow. Todd desperately hoped he wasn't picking up any of the other charitable activities Sara had done for them. "If I may ask, who suggested this dietary tract for you?"

* * *

Sara raised an eyebrow as she studied Todd's expression. "I think that's a hot subject, Professor," she said. "Almost - savoury... wouldn't you say, dear?"(1)  
_Whut?_ thought Todd. _Waitaminute. Savoury. Pie._ He laughed in spite of himself. "Yeah, babe. Exactly right, yo."  
For once, old Baldy looked perplexed. "Ex-cuse me?" he managed.  
"Ah, it's just a thing, yanno?" Todd babbled. "It's like, 'what's fo' dinner?' 'Eat a bug.' 'When's breakfast?' 'Eat a bug.' After a while, I got tired o' askin'."  
"I **knew** I should have steered you towards some of the duck(2)..." said Sara.  
"Ain't yo' fault, babe," he breezed. "I didn't wanna touch nuttin' wit' th' flippers still on. It's coo'. I try to get myself some **good** stuff, a'ight?"  
"There should be more than 'try' about it, dear. I know some old English recipes, perhaps..." Sara turned to Xavier. "If I may make a mess in your kitchen?"  
Gotta love a girl who'd do so much and say it like that...  
Xavier had a let's-see-what-happens look on his face. "Yes, of course. I believe Hank needs some time to gather the intelligence tests."  
There were some meaningful raised eyebrows between the two elder men.  
Todd got a creepy feeling settling over his spine before Sara extracted him from the macroscope.  
"Come along," she said. "I'll show you how to make clootie dumplings(3)."  
"But--" Todd protested.  
Her long strides ate up distance. "It's going to be **fun**."  
"But--" Now he was hurrying to keep up.  
"I **promise** to share the ingestion experience."  
"But--" he gasped. "They **up** to somethin'."  
Sara stopped and pivoted in one movement, so fast that Todd collided with her. "I didn't sense anything nefarious," she said. "But then, I rarely do..."  
Reluctant though he was to let go in a near-hug situation, Todd forced himself to do so. "I don' **think** it was nasty, but... I still think they up to something."  
"If they break their word with me," Sara announced, "they only have one more chance."  
There was that thing with second chances, again. "What is it wit' you an' second chances, anyway?"  
"Everyone and everything deserves one," she said. "Even if they don't always get it." Some ancient sadness shone in her eyes. Sara blinked, and it was gone. "It's just my little way of giving what I don't have."  
_Oh yeah. Her Mom..._ His mental camera youthed Sara down to six, just beginning to get her famous height, and watching with tears in her eyes as her own mother disowned her. She had no-one to cry to, at the very moment she was handed the "Best Effort" award - her Mom turned into a dragon. _Ouch._ It hurt him to say it, but he **had** to. "Hey," he said. "Mebbe gettin' in here might give yo' one..."  
She smiled warmly as if he'd told a joke. "Come on," she said. "I'll show you how to make mutton and clootie dumplings, and then we'll make vegetable medly fritters."

Meanwhile...  
Pietro fingered the frizzy stumps of his bangs and emitted a weak squeak.  
"Hey," said Tabby. "I think you broke him."  
Lance waved his hand in front of the frozen speedster's face. "Hell-**lo**? Pie? You still in there?" It had ceased being funny when he realized Pietro had apparently not breathed in, yet.  
"...hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." rattled Pietro.  
"Wow," said Freddy. "What a wimp. I never got bent outta shape when Tabby gave **me** a haircut..."  
"That's because you're ugly, anyway," said Tabby. "I wonder what'd happen if I drew on his face?"  
"Don't," said Lance, possibly on automatic.  
Pietro breathed in. At last. It was a long, drawn-out inhalation.  
"You... **CUT**... my... **HAIR**..." he anguished.  
"You were being an ass," said Fred. "So?"  
"You **cut**... my **hair**..."  
"I'm'a get a soda," said Tabby. "I think he might be a while."  
"Youcutmy**HAIR**!"  
"Okay, that one was on normal speed," said Lance. "He must be getting better."  
Pietro took another deep breath. The fires of retribution blazed around his soul. "**NOBODY** MESSES WITH THE 'DO!"  
"...ohfuck..." squeaked Lance.  
Pietro let loose an anguished howl and flew into a blur around Freddy. There was a sound like a woodpecker in a pillow factory on fast forward. "Youfuckingbastard, youcutmyhair! Nobodycutsmyhairbut**ME**! Youfuckingbastard, whydon'tyoufuckingdieyoufatfuck? You'reafuckingbastarddoyouhearme? Afuckingfatbastard!"  
Fred, for the record, just stood there. When he judged that he'd heard enough of Pietro the Broken Record, he simply moved his hand to intersect Pie's face.  
"You'reafatfuckingprick, youfuckingbas--" SPLAT  
Freddy lifted him up, and transferred his grip to Pie's shirtfront. "Diss Sara again," he said slowly, "and I'll get the shaver. Understood?"

(1) Sara speaks in code. It's one of her annoying habits.  
(2) Duck is very rich food.  
(3) Also a very rich food.

* * *

Pietro went "Awp," and was silent for one very long minute. "You wouldn't," he finally babbled. "It's too cruel. You couldn't."  
"I would too," Freddy said, looking more serious and scary than he ever had. "I ain't no barber, but I sheared sheep before. I'll make you look like Daniels."  
The speedster's eyes rolled up in a dead faint. Fred held him in midair and blinked, turning him sideways a little to watch his head flop. Tabitha came back with her soda and a permanent marker.  
"Now can I draw on him?"

The kitchen wasn't that clean to begin with. Todd found the remains of a bagel and restaurant style cream-cheese containers on the table and there were several dishes stacked in the sink. It still looked yards better than the Boarding house kitchen, but it wasn't the immaculate room he'd been expecting. It felt kind of homey.  
Sara tsked at it and immediately began sorting through the mess. Todd gently took her hands away from it. "Leave it, yo. They got kids here who probly get paid to clean up after each other. You'd be messin' wit their system."  
She sighed forlornly at the mess and Todd finally gave in and cleared the table while she rummaged for a cooking pot. The pot was filled and set on the stove for boiling, and Todd was hired to watch it while Sara looked through the fridge. There were carrots, celery, and a variety of meats, some pre-marinated and some not, wrapped and labeled in white butcher paper. Sara chose a cut of mutton that was tender to the touch. An onion was found in the hanging basket near the window.  
The only thing needed next was gravy powder, found in the spice cabinet after a short search. Sara and Todd took turns chopping the onion since the fumes irritated tears from both of them. The water was boiling gently by the time they'd finished chopping the vegetables. Sara had already added the mutton to sear it, having to rescue it from Todd who seemed fascinated with poking it, and the gravy powder had turned the water nice and dark. The vegetables were added last. Sara placed a lid over it to let it simmer.  
"Now," she said brightly, "We can get started on the dumplings."

* * *


	22. 22

  
Todd boggled at the array of ingredients Sara had found. Flour, cinnamon, ground cloves, mixed spice, all spice, nutmeg, brown sugar, several dried fruits - what the hell was 'suet'? And why did it come in a mix? Butter and a solitary egg lurked amidst all the spices.  
"Whoah," he said. "You an' me got a whole differen' world, babe..."  
"Oh? How so?" Sara weighed some flour into a large measuring cup.  
"When Mom used t' make dumplin's, she'd just wet the flour down. Nana Kurbalowitz used t' knead drippin' in 'em. Ain't never heard o' no 'suet'."  
"You're probably lucky," Sara weighed out half as much of the suet stuff. It was yellowish and smelled greasy. "It's basically concentrated fat. The best stuff is harvested from around the kidneys of cows. They also used to render it for tallow - which made marvellous candles." Sara dumped the yellow stuff in and proceeded to work it through the flour with her fingers.  
"Yo' puttin' yo' **hands** in it?"  
"I **did** wash them."  
"...ick..."  
Sara reached for the spices and liberally added them into the mixture. "You need to rub the suet in to make it fluffier, dear," She absently patted her hands clean on her pants. "And besides, part of adulthood is handling things far ickier than processed cow kidney-fat."  
"But still..."  
"Need I remind you that you were voluntarily poking dead sheep parts, earlier?"  
"That was **sheep**?"  
"Peculiar, isn't it?" Sara added a liberal dose of brown sugar and stirred the spices in. The kitchen filled with the finer particles of the stuff and Todd was instantly taken back to Nana Kurbalowitz's kitchen. All that was missing was the persistant odour of cat pee. Sara continued, heedless of Todd's recollection. "Lamb is lamb until it's a year old, then it becomes a hogget - don't blame me, blame ancient England... a year or two later, it becomes mutton - old sheep. With cows, it's just beef and veal." She made a hollow in the brownish powders and seized the egg.  
whp--CRK! Sara's hand was a blur as she neatly broke the shell. Unlike the TV chefs, though, she preferred to seperate it with both hands.  
Todd had to smile as she obsessively placed the shell in the biodegradables bin and washed her hands again. The entire process was hypnotising.  
A spoon and a few, deft movements with the butter added some yellow chunks to the middle, and then she began to stir. She started from the centre, making sure she broke the yolk, and moved increasingly outwards until the blob in the middle got too thick.  
It was something to watch her manipulate a gigantic milk carton so that it delivered a tiny dose to the bowl.  
"Want to stir? You need to get the feel of it." Sara offered him the spoon.  
Tentatively, he had a go. "Man, this stuff's gooey," he marvelled. "Ngh... How do you not break your wrists, yo?"  
"Practice." Sara retrieved the spoon and made sure the bowl was free of errant powder. "Next, the dried fruit of your choice."  
_Oooh, the fun part..._ grinning, he grabbed some maraschino cherries, both red and green, the apricots, and some red stuff that proclaimed to be mango. "Just show me where to put the faces, babe."  
Sara giggled. "It's supposed to go all **through** the dumplings, dear. Would you like some nuts as well? It's sort of a protein kicker, I guess."  
An evil idea formed as Todd selected the flaked almonds. "These'll do." _And if fuzzbutt steals any, I'll tell him they're bugs._  
"Excellent. A handful each should do nicely."  
Todd added generous handfuls.  
"Marvellous," Sara cooed, folding them in with a touch of extra milk. "This is hideously bad for you long-term, but (oof) I rather suspect it's got everything you need."  
"Man, it's like bread dough."  
"Exactly. Technically, it's a scone mix, but, the principal is the same. **Traditionally**, we should wrap these up in little cloaks and steam them in the oven, **but**... since I couldn't find any cheesecloth, we'll have to go with plan B."  
"What dat?"  
"Pop 'em in the soup." Sara grinned. She measured out more flour into a little bowl and laid out a clean tea-towel nearby. "Now the fun part. We take a walnut-dollop," she scooped one out, and plopped it onto the flour, "Flour it lightly, and roll it into a neat little ball. Careful not to knead it. Put the done ones on the towel and we'll put them all in at once."  
"Why all at once?" Todd got a glob and tried to follow her actions.  
"They go bad if you open the pot in the first fifteen minutes. They need the heat and the steam, you see." Her movements were quick and well-practiced.  
Todd's were slow, but he was improving. "These mighty small dumplin's, sweetie."  
"They expand like the dickens, though," she said. "Fortunately, we have a glass lid for the pot, so you can watch them try to take over the world."  
"Narf," said Todd.  
They spent the rest of their dumpling-rolling time riffing from _Pinky and the Brain_ until they'd formed a quasi-episode.  
Dumplings done, Sara turned up the heat in the soup and added a generous amount of liquid, watching as it came back to the boil. "Beware splashback, dear," she cautioned as they both lifted the towel by the corners. "Ready?"  
"Ready."  
"Pour!"  
They avalanched into the pot. Sara covered it and set a timer for twenty minutes.  
Todd got a stool. "Man, they startin' already!"  
The kitchen filled with agonisingly delicious odours.

* * *

Lance sighed and shoved Pietro's body toward Tabitha, who promptly squealed with glee while dragging him off to the living room couch. He dared to poke his head around the doorframe to see that she'd dragged out Todd's case of coloring pens from its hiding place beneath the couch. What was it about Tabby that enabled her to find and abuse other people's sacred belongings? He turned away as she began painting rainbow swirlies on Pietro's face.  
"So what now?" Fred asked, having no qualms whatsoever about watching the art show.  
"Well, if they're fine... Xavier can't keep 'em there by force. Todd'll come back, he always does. Even if he stays for a while to make sure she's okay, he'll eventually get sick of those losers giving him grief. Joining them for the sake of a girl doesn't work. I've tried," Lance said wryly. "So what we do now I guess, is just wait."  
"If anyone hurts them," Fred growled. It wasn't necessary to finish the threat.  
"Yeah, I know," Lance smiled. "We'll be ready to kick ass if they need us to. In the meantime, though, we should be trying to take care of other things. Like food." He looked at Freddy speculatively, in a new light. "Hey, you ever think of becoming a bouncer?"

Kurt really hated American text books. Especially the history ones. Why bother calling it American History? Why not be accurate and call it Patriotically Biased Fiction? The propaganda was blindingly obvious. "Santa Ana gave them several warnings," he muttered to the sheet of paper in front of him. Assigned review questions on his gullibility. Blah. "He told them they would all live if they surrendered." This was an old textbook. It even had a picture of Santa Ana's portrait scowling darkly in the upper right hand corner. "He did not open fire the moment he got in range," Kurt then told the stubborn sentence in the book that stated the opposite. "Even though he had the right to as they were on his property. Mein Gott." He had enough and slammed the book shut. "Can't wait for when they get to WWII. Won't that be a joy."  
Kurt leaned back in his desk chair and drew in a long breath. He held it in, because something smelled - Kurt took another whiff - heavenly. And he was hungry from all this forced reading. Kurt pulled away from his chair and ported downstairs to see what was cooking.

He ended up in the hall upwind from the kitchen; sulfur was a rather disconcerting smell when one was cooking. He stalked down the corridor, taking liberal breaths of what was wafting from the kitchen. It was truly heavenly. Kurt sidled up to the wall and peeked around the door. He blinked at the sight of Todd and Sara sitting by the stove, watching a pot of something.  
Kurt couldn't determine what it was, but he wouldn't be too proud to beg at this point. He hesitated in making himself known, since both their backs were to him, and they seemed at ease in the kitchen more than he could ever have imagined. Or maybe they were just at ease with each other? Watching them helped take his mind off the food. Kurt read them as they waited.  
Todd looked thinner than normal and hungry at whatever was simmering - for that Kurt certainly couldn't blame him. He was leaning close to Sara however, not letting hunger distract him from the fact that there was a girl he liked sitting next to him. Remarkable, so that helped dispell the myth of one-tracked minds in the Brotherhood.  
Sara was poised and quiet, her body language had a bit of nervousness to it - also entirely understandable. Kurt had to admit, busting into the Brotherhood house to 'rescue' her had probably not left the greatest of impressions. Todd seemed to be the one having a calming effect on her. His brain immediately went back to puzzling over Todd's eerie calmness. Kurt half expected him to be jumping off the walls, demanding to know when the food was ready. With anyone else, he probably would have been - but no, here he was acting mature. Kurt shook his head, unable to get over how weird it was seeing the frog-boy so still.  
Stillness and serenity was Kurt's forte (as if he needed any extra help in getting noticed anyway), just as being loud and abrasive to grab attention of those he liked, was Tolensky's. Todd wasn't even keeping himself entertained with one-liners he was famous for getting himself smacked for.  
Kurt smirked. Being in love changed a person, or so it seemed.

* * *

If there was such a thing as a double-take of the nose, that's what Logan was doing right now. He hadn't smelled that sort of thing in ages. Rich, sweet, and oozing calories just by odour.  
_Damn, I thought some idiots had **banned** that..._ He stalked upwind, following the scent to the kitchen window. Damn, that smell took him back. Nobody had made that dish in forever.  
He entered by the back door, breathing the sweetness deep and wallowing in memory.  
"Uh. Hello. I don't believe we've been introduced?"  
"Logan," said Logan, internally slightly furious that he had to look **up** at a sixteen-year-old girl(1). "Got enough o' that to go around, Tallwater?"  
"I should certainly hope so," she said.  
"Yo, those dumplin's're tryin' to climb out, sweets..."  
"They do that. Just hold the lid down if they make a spirited attempt."  
"Did I hear the word 'dumplings'? I thought Americans banned them," Elf appeared by some sympathetic magic at one of the other doors.  
Stinkboy looked - trapped. Tallwater appeared to be vaguely exasperated. "You have..." she glanced at a clock, "seven more minutes until it's ready. Until then, I'm afraid Todd and I will have to defend the pot against random predations."  
Elf chuckled and exaggeratedly put his hands in his pockets. "Jawohl, Fraulein. I'm keeping my knuckles out of range."  
Logan took the hint from Stinkboy's guarded stance and backed into a handy corner. "I can wait," he said.

Todd was certain that he wasn't showing how nervous he felt. There he was, in the same room as the psycho and the freako... people who'd kicked his ass and then threatened to chop it off in the past. And he had to maintain a more casual and brave front for Sara, who had enough to deal with already.  
And then she took his hand in hers and gave him a reassuring squeeze.  
He looked up at her looking down at him with a reassuring half-smile on her peeling features, and felt the need to explain the subtext. "Us three got a history."  
"It doesn't have to repeat," she assured. "Meals can bring people together, you know."  
Todd thought of tomato soup and melted velveeta on wonderbread and grinned. "Yeah..."

Sara felt the blush rising as Todd's face got that gooey smitten look. She didn't deserve this much attention, and kept subconsciously waiting for the trap. The catch. The laughter.  
The fluttering under her eye wasn't going away on its own. It was subtly spreading. Her entire skin felt like it was shivering by itself and her scalp was crawling as if she were wearing a skull-cap that was making a break for freedom. She was currently, as Nanna Adrien would put it, feeling three colours of miserable.  
But the pot was warm, and Todd's presence was even warmer... but any minute, now, Mother was going to wonder where she was.  
She was bound to be over her hangover, by now.  
_Just try to remain calm,_ Xavier's voice rang into the middle of her head like a temple bell. _I'm explaining things to her, now._  
She got a mental image, like a dream, watching Ororo watching Sara play the harp, Vlad, in the music room... a medly of classical pieces, for which Vlad took a minor nick out of Sara's hand. That was how his staff were supposed to discover her.  
The cover story that Mother would accept.  
"Truth is a negligable concept around here, isn't it?" Sara wondered aloud.  
"Huh?" said Todd.  
"Right at this moment, Professor Xavier is lying to my mother--" twitch, "--about where I've been yesterday. Every day, people leave here and give others the illusion that they're nothing but mundane. So long as everyone has a story to tell, everything is seen to be perfect..."  
"For the record," said Kurt, "the last time I went out like this in a strange town? I was nearly burned at the stake."  
"Well, yes, some lies are understandable, but--"  
tweeeeeep!  
"--Oh. Dinner's ready." She found large bowls for four and automatically ladled out generous portions. "I've found that there's a limited amount of lies one can perpetuate until the entire house of cards goes flumph." She shrugged and ensured Todd had a bowl and a spoon. "I keep getting the feeling that I'm very close to an edge."  
Logan snagged a bowl. "I'd relax," he said. "Chuck can make his lies stand up in a court of law."  
Kurt, spoon already in his mouth, began to purr.

_Oh, man, I think I'm puttin' on weight from the smell..._ Todd sank into a chair and tried to mimic Sara's daintiness as he got his first spoonful. What greeted his tongue was a surprisingly sweet and flavourful brew that warmed him up from the stomach outwards.  
"...oh **man**..." he sighed.  
"Just what the doctor ordered," Sara smiled. "In this case, literally."  
They fell to silence as they fell in.  
If Todd had needed any further convincing, this meal would have been it. This was the exact degree of comfort and succour he'd needed. And having her by his side was also way more than a little help.  
How had she known?  
"Miss Adrien?" Hank said, appearing in a doorway. "When you've completed your repast, your written tests have been prepared."  
Sara sighed. "I suppose it's for the best," she said. "You **do** have to know exactly what I'm incapable of."  
Todd winced, and squeezed her hand. "It be coo', babe. You do fine."

(1) Logan's short. I forget the exact stat, but it's somewhere under 6' and somewhere above 5'... I usually write him as being 5'7", but someone can correct me if they have a cannonical number. (AN: I've since found out that he's 5'3")

* * *

Sara squeezed back, and chuckled softly. "It's okay. If I disappoint, at least there won't be unpleasant consequences." It wouldn't matter to strangers how remedial she was, so long as she had powers for them to focus on. But it **would** matter to her.  
Todd seemed to pick up on this well enough. "Yo intelligent no matta **what** some piece o' paper says. Dunno why people made those tests anyway, s'cept to prove who was better than who." He really wasn't helping was he? Todd cursed inwardly. "I don't know much bout IQ tests. I know it's a lot of stress yo don't need right now," he amended softly. He smiled up at her. "So long as you don't thinka 'bout it too much, I bet you could ace it."  
It had a bit of truth to it. Taking a test you were worried about seldom reaped good marks. The worry clouded your mind and answering questions became akin to navigating a minefield blindfoled. Todd had encountered far too many tests he wasn't prepared for to not know the feeling. On half of them he would have done better had he been less afraid of failing.  
"I don't think you 'ace' IQ tests," Sara smiled. "It's more like making a map of your mind, to see where your strengths lie. Pity the poor cartographer of my map. More dumplings?"  
Todd looked down at his bowl to find it nearly empty. His stomach was feeling comfortably lined, and he knew better than to eat himself sick because of sudden abundance. He couldn't help a flash of annoyance when the fuzzy bottomless pit held out his clean bowl and attempted to look cute. Logan was rolling his own eyes. "Elf, if you don't watch it, you're gonna be rolling across the Danger Room floor tomorrow mornin'."  
Kurt didn't have time to reply as Amara stormed up to him and pounced on his ear. "What is that smell? Did I not tell everyone I'm on a diet? Kurt, how could you try and sabotage me like this?"  
"Nein, I didn't cook anything!" Kurt wailed, as Amara attempted to drag him out of the kitchen by his ear, clearly thinking she would remove temptation by doing so.  
Todd snickered. "Looks like there's going to be a mob of angry dieters soon."  
"Then I suggest we eliminate the evidence." Sara smiled. "Sure you don't want another one?"  
Todd couldn't remember having anything quite so good in his life. He could find room for more, the past week considered. Hell, his stomach was practically begging, especially now that the dumplings were on the endangered list. He could hear voices down the hall. "One more, yo, then we'd better split."  
"May as well," shrugged Hank, taking one for himself at Sara's offering. "Mmm, oh my stars. There'll probably be at least a minor explosion over who gets the rest of these. And whoever does the exploding is the one that does the cleaning."  
In other words, eat fast and leave soon to avoid cleanup duty. Sounded like a plan. There was the sound of a scuffle and several shouting Jamie clones running toward the kitchen. "Oh no you don't, ya little squirts!" yelled Sam, longer legged and yet unable to pass the small army of ten-year-olds.  
Hank maneuvered himself swiftly to block the doorway and let the Jamies bounce off him. "One moment, leave some room so people can get out," he admonished around a mouthful of dumpling.

* * *

AN: Today's colour is as close as I could get to puce. It's actually a sick violet. Meh. 


	23. 23

AN: Big, BIIIIG thanks to my lovely reviewers :) I want to hug you all

Choas Babe: Sara's talking about mouthing off in Latin. Possibly with cusswords. And the name of that song is Good Morning Starshine. Look it up. I'm also liking how I got two chapters up. I might try that again ;)

dtdd: I have no clue what you're talking about. Please elucidate.

Readerrr Grrrl: You can get my personal recipe for mutton and clootie dumplings over on my BBS - just go to my website, click on the bulletin board linkie, and browse through "A Proper Board" for a thread about recipes. (I must think up new ways to have cute cooking scenes ;) ) Oh, and guess what? FFN doesn't like the initials NFN any more. Poo on them.

* * *

Todd's stomach was a very happy lead weight(1) by now, wo he was eager to help Sara sidle out of the ensuing melee. "Ew... there's like, **meat** in this..."  
Todd rolled his eyes. Better that Kitty didn't know about the suet.  
"One day, y' mightn't mind so much," said Sam. "But I'll take your share."  
And then they were confronted by Jean. "Just **who** had to cook when **I** was on a diet?" she whined. "Just a **taste** is going to go to my hips."  
"So resist," said Sara.  
"Essel?" Jean looked down. "**Toad**?" She sighed, waving her hands in mock surrender. "I don't even **want** to know what you're doing here."  
"Fine," Todd blurted. "Then we won't tell yo'."  
Hank was knuckling his way towards their exit, one large bowl held high above the crowd. "Pardon me. Coming through. Hot soup. Watch your step. Ex-**cuse** me..." He breathed a sigh of relief once free of the crowds. "Are you all right, miss Adrien?"  
"I should be more like her and she doesn't even know who I am," Sara marvelled, staring after Jean.  
"When it comes to miss Grey and diet-breakers, I'm shocked she could recognise **anyone**," said Hank. He lead the way down the hall. "Pay it no mind. I've set up a quiet room, in which there are several tests. They range upwards in difficulty, and the percentage of trick questions."  
"Oh dear," muttered Sara.  
"I have utmost confidence in you, miss Adrien. I've long suspected you conceal hidden depths... and now I have an opportunity to fully plumb them, as it were."  
Sara blushed.  
Todd squeezed her hand. "Just keep coo', yo. You do fine."  
"I wish I shared your confidence, dear," said Sara. She had to be stressed. This was one of the very few times when she didn't correct his grammar. 

Sara wiped her palms on the knees of her borrowed track pants, re-read the instructions on the board, and opened the first question book.  
_A train leaves Denver travelling at 30mph..._  
"K-I-S-S, R-T-F-Q," she muttered, showing all her working and trying desperately not to over-think the problems. This was the one with the fewest trick questions, so she had to keep things simple. She sighed, halfway through the first book, and stared briefly at the camera.  
Did it help or hinder to know that both Dr McCoy and Todd were watching her in another room?  
Back to work. Question thirty-seven. _Oh **dear**..._ This was one of those ones that could be over-thought until logic suggested that the problem didn't actually exist.  
"K-I-S-S," Sara emphasised. "K-I-S-S..."

"Kiss?" McCoy pondered.  
"Keep It Simple, Stoopid," Todd supplied. "'S what it stands fo'." He watched Sara rub her scalp and walk through the problem at hand. "You can do it, babe. Keep at it."  
"This certainly explains a great deal," murmured McCoy. "She's actually making an effort to **restrain** herself from thinking... Amazing."  
"Huh?"  
The big blue guy smirked. "You've never seen the backs of Sara's school notebooks, have you? I've had that chance, once or twice... Your young lady is more than a diamond in the rough. Ah! Here we go."  
Sara, on the monitor, slipped both question paper and answer book into a slot at the front of the room, then got the next question sheet.  
McCoy opened a little hatch and began examining her answers. "Hm! Just as I thought. Trying to conform with the classes as taught, but here--" he indicated a page of working that Sara had crossed out. "Genius shines through."  
"She crossed that out, yo. It don't count... don't it?"  
"I've always found miss Adrien's obliterated answers to be far more educational than the ones she judges to be acceptable." McCoy looked through the book for more. "Our dear lady does like to hide her light in a bushel..."  
Todd snorted, watching her work through the second book. "Shyeah. I love her, but she can't take a compliment if yo' gift-wrap it." Was it him? Or was she working faster?  
Nope. She stopped cold.  
"Question thirty-seven, I presume." Hank smirked. "The one problem that remains the same in every question book."  
"It's a trick question all along? That ain't fair!" His poor sweetie...  
"It's the trick question to beat all trick questions," he grinned. "And the trick is, that it's carefully calibrated. No two people would be able to answer it the same way. The **trick**, dear boy, is in **how** the testee answers."  
"She's gonna make you her hobby when she finds out, yo."  
"For a brief while, perhaps." Hank shrugged. "But I suspect she'll thank me in the long run." He retrieved the second answer book and flipped ahead to question thirty-seven's answer. "Intriguing... She's answered it a different way."  
Todd looked at the two answers to the same question. It was mostly gibberish to him, but he could pick out the diverging point. He thought of Sara chaneling her mother and shuddered. "I've seen her - Idunno - **be** someone else, once... Would this--?"  
"No. Sara always answers as Sara. Her -ah- somewhat spooky impressions have little to do with this..." he tapped the page. "I might have to make her **my** hobby..."  
Todd decided to steer the conversation away from anything that involved Sara under a microscope. "Yo, how do you know about th' impressions?"  
He grinned. "I was late to meet her, one afternoon, after school. She was entertaining her -ah- contemporary. That gossippy Wiltshire girl."  
Oh. **Her**. _I don't care what Sara says, I'm'a fuck her up one of these days._ "Yeah. Met her."  
"You sound rather less impressed than I was," Hank sounded mildly shocked that such a thing was possible. "Sara, however, managed to solidly 'nail' me. I could not, in all good conscience, contain my applause."  
Todd could just picture that. McCoy, in his pre-blue body, entering with cheery 'bravo's. Sara's resultant shriek and blush... and possibly what Janine's blabby mouth would turn it into. Maybe he should sneak a few dead rats into **her** locker. See how **she** liked it.  
Sara **was** working faster... but the things she was doing to her **face**... Her tongue slid out of her mouth and her face slackened to such a point that she looked moronic... except the eyebrows, which drew down in a frown.  
She paused after the latest question to rub her head again, and wound up peeling skin from her hair until a whole piece dangled over her back.  
_I am **so** glad I don't shed that bad,_ Todd thought. "She's gotta be in pain," he said. "But she don't look like she's feeling it."  
"Possibly distracted by the task at hand," McCoy reassured. "You'll note that she doesn't -ah- groom until she's finished a problem?"  
"Yo, if that's all it takes, I'm'a ask her word math problems 'till my throat goes dry."

Last book. Most trick questions. Sara made a point to prove her proofs backwards and forwards.  
Question thirty-seven was the same one as for all the others.  
_Shit!_  
There was no way to take the others back. No do-overs. She just had to soldier on. Keep going. Do Todd proud.  
Love **was** a powerful thing.

(1) Mutton and clootie dumplings tends to fill one up with surprising haste.

* * *

Her scales had gone greyish again, indicating, Todd hoped, that Sara was unwinding from prior stresses and not - he feared - that she was building up some more of them.  
Todd offered his hand for her to hold. Sara used it to reel him in for a near-bone-crushing hug and an episode of trembles.  
_Aw **shee-it**..._ "'S gonna be okay, babe. Y'ain't gonna fall."  
A breath like a sob. "...thank you. I needed that." Hot tears melded with a delicate kiss to his neck. "I want to beg, whimper, plead and whine my way into a do-over," she whispered. "It's like a compulsion or something. Or conditioning. Resistance is... wracking."  
Todd tried to rock with her, but the height difference between them was starting to do some wracking things to his back. "Let's siddown, 'kay? I think yo' gonna be surprised when shaggy, over there, gets done."  
Sara kind of flopped into her seat, negating their remaining height-difference by slouching. Her fingers twitched, playing invisible harp strings. "I'm so used to do-overs," she confessed. "One fails, one tries again until success is achieved. I didn't **know** it was a trick question."  
"It hurt like hell when I found out, yo. 'S part of th' test, to see **how** yo' answer, not **what** yo' answer."  
Sara frowned, lost at the concept. "What sort of a question is **that**?" she wondered. "If it doesn't have a right answer, why is it there?"  
"To examine your methods, of course," said Hank. He'd surfaced from his reading and still bore the pince-nez spectacles(1) on the bridge of his nose. "It's easy to tell that you have never been educated in the field of higher mathematics," Sara focussed intently on her knees at this, "but the way you've come so **close** to established formulae is remarkable. With just a little aid and attention, I have no doubt that you would be undertaking some university courses by next year, at the latest."  
Sara's head came back up. "I beg your pardon?"  
"You are a **very** intelligent young lady," Hank clapped her warmly on the shoulder. "At the very least, I would estimate your IQ to be somewhere above one-eighty... but that is an extremely conservative estimate."  
Todd glowered at him. _If you break her, I'm'a kill yo',_ he thought.  
Sara's head tic'd 'no' as her scales drained to a dull yellowish hue. "But I'm in Remedial **Ed**..."  
"Genius, my dear Miss Adrien, rarely conforms to standardized testing. Many a bright spark has been discovered languishing with the bottom-feeders... in fact, the many behavioural demerits in your permanent record are quite the red flag."  
"I think..." Sara murmured, "...I think I have to talk to Gladys."  
"By all means," Hank released them both with an upturned palm. "Go degauss."

Upstairs, Professor Xavier exited from his office and possibly the most exasperating telephone call of his life. "That woman," he announced to the waiting Logan, "is an absolute **harridan**."  
"That bad, eh?" Logan knew that it took a great deal for the Professor to insult anyone.  
"Forty-five minutes," he said, rubbing his head. "Forty-five minutes **straight**... of haranguing, harassing, and otherwise muck-raking of Miss Adrien's past sins, real or imagined - and she didn't even pause for **breath**!"  
Logan's eyebrows raised at the thought. "Y'know... I think I saw a Scold's Bridle in one o' the basements..."  
Xavier thought **very** hard about the idea for five seconds too long. "No. Tempting... but, no. I fear it would fail to teach her anything." He sighed. "I'm afraid I'll have to settle for the best therapy I can find for Miss Adrien."  
"Kid's gonna need years of it," said Logan.

* * *

Todd was certain he only began breathing again when Sara's usual colour returned. In fact, he was almost to the point where he'd rather cut off his arm than interrupt her, but she needed to look after herself.  
"Feelin' better?" he asked when she slowed.  
"A little. I don't think the shock's entirely hit me, yet..."  
"You need t' drink somethin'," _An' so do I..._ His own thirst was threatening to turn his tongue into sandpaper. And, just as he reached for her hand, one of the X-geeks entered.  
Scooter. One-eye. Better known as Scott Summers, the boy every girl on the planet seemed to lust after. He carried a tray of bottled water and sport drinks. "Hank said you might be needing these," he said, setting the tray down. He then emptied his pockets of many, brightly-wrappered bars. "And these. Kurt swears by 'em as an emergency stash. And **his** metabolism's a furnace."  
Sara the social chameleon was remarkably guarded and almost - hostile. "My thanks," she said, cool to the point of growing hoarfrost.  
Todd sensed raising hackles, and so did Wonderboy, who backed hastily out of the room. "Yo, what up?" Todd wondered. "I thought he was th' golden boy, far as the ladies were concerned."  
"I've had the misfortune of catching a Senior's eye, previously. It did not end well." Sara cracked open a scientifically-approved bottle of bluish liquid and gracefully knocked back the entire litre. "Do you recall the movie, _Never Been Kissed_?"  
"Yeah, guess..." He shrugged, having caught the edges of it when Tabby had control of the TV. Pietro, he remembered, had cried like a little girl in some parts. Tabby had laughed at it.  
"The scene with the egging?"  
_Oh crap. I think I know where this is going..._ Todd, horrified and unable to stop himself, nodded.  
"Imagine it re-enacted with dog feces replacing the eggs. And with four Seniors doing the propelling. Nothing was done." She delicately peeled a bar and took a savage bite. "Apparently, it was an annual practice. I was informed that I was lucky I was plain. Prettier freshmen are allegedly raped. En masse."  
Todd had just moved into Bayville at the time, finishing up middle school by mail. The incident had been relegated to a half-minute piece in the "In other news" section right before the weather and sign-off. Mystique had been pissed off, naturally, because it happened to and amongst **her** students; but reprimand and punishment by her was moot, since the Prom happened at the end of the school year. "Goddamnit, I'm startin' to **hate** our school, yo."  
"I had considered filing a lawsuit," Sara finished the bar and began on a bottle of water. "Mother insisted that I'd be lucky to redeem the bill for dry-cleaning. She said there were no possible emotional damages, as she'd warned me from the start. My own fault, for not listening." Sara offered him a spectacularly vivid yellow sports beverage.  
Todd drank until his air ran out. "No offense meant, babe," he panted, "but yo' mom is a harpy."  
"A dragon, certainly," she agreed. "A gorgon, perhaps... But she never swears." Sara paced, rubbing at her peeling skin. "She never hit me, you know."  
Faint praise, indeed. _In the unlikely event of my havin' kids,_ Todd thought, _I never want a plus point o' theirs to be 'he never hit me', when they get t' talkin'._ "Din't stop her tearin' yo' up wit' her tongue," he said.

* * *

"Ah. Jean."  
Jean Grey froze when she heard the Professor's voice. She could sense that he wanted something from her - a useless intuition, given the tone of his voice - but his shields wouldn't permit further prying. At times like this, she really missed the Norms. They rarely had any kind of shielding. She turned and put on her best smile. "Yes, Professor?"  
"We need to have a talk about your night exercises."  
_Crud..._ "It's not as if I need them," she argued. "I'm fine."  
He sighed, entering her room and gently closing the door. "Jean... I have very good reasons for insisting you continue with them."  
"But I don't **need** them," she said. "I can sleep fine, now."  
"As long as you're alone, or in the same room as someone you're familliar with," he said.  
"But they're **bo**ring," she whimpered, striking at the heart of the real reason. "They keep me awake more than they actually help me sleep anyhow."  
"They wouldn't do that if you kept practicing," Xavier insisted. "And these comfortable circumstances," he waved a hand at her room, "are not going to last forever. You **will** find yourself in a situation where you **wish** you had not ignored my counsel, Jean."  
"I'm not ignoring, I'm debating," she said. "And I can't think of a single situation that I couldn't teek myself out of, anyhow. The point's **moot**, Professor."  
"If you truly think it is," he said. "I shall have to leave you with the consequences of your inactions."  
_What. Ever._ Jean thought.  
_Your day shields need work, too,_ his thoughts entered her mind without so much as a twitch. _You're better than bare minimum, Jean._

They'd come to rest in the window seat, watching the sky turn colours with the evening. The companionable silence between them was warm.  
Todd personally felt that he could spend forever in this one, perfect moment. It was just right. Sara was calm, happy, and wrapped lovingly around him. She wasn't twitchy, itchy, or otherwise uncomfortable... just enjoying the moment with him.  
A soft whir heralded Xavier.  
"Good afternoon, Professor," said Sara, only turning her head to look. "I do hope you don't mind us being comfortable."  
"Not at all." He smiled amiably. "Have you come to any decisions?"  
"Your facilities are remarkable," she said. "Some testing methods - unnerving..." Sara looked over to the harp. Weighing it in the balance, perhaps. "No doubt, if I attempted to strike out on my own, I'd make some kind of botch out of it."  
Todd gripped her hand and kissed it, holding it against his cheek. His thoughts were a circle. _Don't think like that. It hurts both of us. Please don't think like that..._  
"I'm afraid I'm largely unhinged by - of all things - an IQ test. One hundred and eighty... My weltenschaung(1) is thoroughly shattered... not stupid. Just - inopportuned." The colours of her scales shifted. "I'll need **some** method of concealment. This..." she examined her hand, "...will not **do**. And short of a truckload of expensive makeup material, I... quite fail to see how else I could blend." Sara sighed. "Remaining here... is a logical choice."  
And how little she considered herself in that choice. Todd tried not to wince.  
"I do hope it's a **correct** choice," said Xavier. "I will do everything I can to help."  
"Todd?"  
He half-turned in his place. "If nuttin' else, yo' get away from yo' mom fo' a while."  
"Yes. Change equals holiday. And I feel in sore need of a vacation."  
Todd hugged her arm, feeling a profound sense of loss. He'd see her, but she'd be leaving his orbit by slow degrees. He knew. X-geeks and the 'hood didn't mix.  
"Will Todd be allowed to visit?" asked Sara. "Or any of my friends?"  
_Not Janine,_ thought Todd. _Not Janine. Yo' don' need **her**..._  
"Of course," he breezed. "Anyone comfortable with coming here, can. We - just prefer advance notice."  
"Quite understood," said Sara. "Professor?"  
"Yes?"  
"What happens now?"

(1) World view.

* * *

AN: Today's colour is "AIGH! My eyes!" green. 


	24. 24

  
Well, at least she'd mastered the art of asking perplexing questions. "Therein lies a problem," said Charles. "Your mother... didn't exactly give me much of a chance to inform her of the opportunity you've been given."  
"Why th' hell we need her fo'?" said Todd. "Sara's sixteen, yo. She can run off an' go somewhere new any chance she likes. All legal-like." A brief vision of a white picket fence keeping a small horde of lizard-frog children safe flitted through his mind.  
...and echoed in Sara's. "You know... that might just work. I can call Ray. He and the staff have always been - helpful." _And why not?_ "You and Jean can run interference and explain the van away whilst we move all my junk. It's perfect. Would you like to come along, dear?"  
Todd preactically glowed under the influence of the invitation. "He'p you outta th' lion's den? Fo' **sure**, yo."  
"And while we're occupied," said Charles, a firm lesson forming in his head, "Logan and Hank can prepare your room." 

Sara had thrown a hoodie on, and fiddled with a pair of work gloves. "On or off?" she wondered aloud.  
"On, yo," advised Todd. "Stops anyone seein' what they shouldn't oughta. Don' want no nosy neighbours spreadin' sh-- stories."  
"This can't be right," Jean was murmuring. "We're heading into Snobby Slopes."  
Sara snorted at the nickname. "Yes. I guess we are." She grinned like the cat that had found a canary in the cream.  
Todd peeked out a window and whistled. "Yo, these places are **huge**."  
"Most of it's empty space," dismissed Sara. "The how and why of flaunting one's heating bill. Amongst other things."  
"You **been** in some o' these?"  
"Dear... as you would say - this mah hood, yo."  
"Yo, that's just scary."  
Sara giggled. At least until she spotted a small convention of matching pink SUVs clustered in a curved driveway. "Oh **no**..." she moaned. "Mom's called a **pow-wow**..."  
"**Pardon**?" said Jean.  
"Whenever she's in crisis mode, Mom calls in all her relatives for unnecessary counselling. And since it's now after school... there's a high risk of **cousins**."  
Todd felt his stomach sink. "Somethin' tells me they ain't like you."  
"No," said Sara. "They're not. Have you seen _Village of the Damned_ and _The Stepford Wives_?"  
"**Oh**." Todd shuddered. "Ick."  
"Could you park at the side? That way, Todd and I can nip 'round to the back without a fuss, and you won't get boxed in by Soccer Moms."  
"Interesting," said the Professor. "Not many people in this area have had ramps installed."  
"And not many people spot **ours**," said Sara. "Good luck with the gorgons, and try not to let them pinhole you about fashion versus style." She opened up the back doors and bailed out.  
Todd followed, keeping up with her eager steps at a light jog. "Yo, I knew yo' were loaded, but... **day-umn**, yo."  
"Didn't you know? The Adriens are Old Money from Boston. Dad only built here 'cause Mom wanted to be close to her family." She waved at a distant figure on a ride-on lawnmower, who startled, and then waved back. "That was Henry Basilton. He and Mom have had a low-grade war about the gardens since day one... sometimes, I think he only stays on to stop her from taking over."  
"He does excellent work," said Todd.  
Sara braked at a door and rapped on it. tap tap tatap tap  
"Two bits," murmured Todd.  
Sara grinned.  
"Sara! Hola!" The slightly rounded Mexican-American opened her arms wide.  
"Consuela!" Sara did the same. They embraced. "Todd, this is Consuela StMartinez. Consuela, Todd Tolenksy... my boyfriend."  
Todd's heart exploded in happy fireworks. He didn't even know what he was babbling until he realised he'd slid into Spanish.  
"(You've found a good one, to be so polite in **here**.)"  
"(I'm as surprised as you are,)" said Sara, also speaking Spanish. "(Todd, you didn't tell me you were bilingual.)"  
"Never came up," he blushed. "Gotta be good at **somethin'**, yo."  
"(Ah, we make him **shy**.)" Consuela embraced him and kissed his forehead. "You will be good for her. I approve."  
And somehow, this was a better blessing than anything from her biological mother. Todd floated along as they wound through a maze of back passages and corridors.  
"Hetty started packing your books the minute Ray told us," said Consuela. "We'll be sad to see you go, miss Adrien."  
"I'm not exactly sorry **to** go... I mean, away from **Mom**. I'll miss all of you."  
Consuela looked around for errant spies. "Ray mentioned something else," she whispered. "A big change for you?"  
"Yeah," Sara eased her hood back a little. "I'm a mutant... and I'm growing scales. Well... sort-of scales."  
Consuela hissed in sympathy. "Ouch... Mi pequeÃ±a muchacha pobre(1)... You need all the rest you can get. Which means we get you **out** of here."  
"Bless you, Consuela."  
Hetty turned out to be none other than the British exchange student, a senior who looked startled to be sharing the same room with Todd Tolensky.  
Sara pulled her hood as far forward as it could go and thanked the girl profusely for her help.  
"Go downstairs," said Consuela, catching the vibe. "They'll be wanting the finger-food and drinks, soon."  
"Yes'm," Hetty bolted.  
Sara stepped over a few boxes to greet what looked like a ginger tribble in a plastic tube. "Hel-lo Chuckie," she cooed. "Did 'oo miss mommy?" The apparent tribble unfurled into a hamster and scurried through the tubing to a little hatch. "Aw, yes 'oo did..." She fed him an apple chip and smiled at Todd. "This is Chuckie the Wonder Hamster. Sort of a science project leftover, if you will." She told the story, how her previous year's class had had a female hamster, who then gave birth to a small crowd of baby hamsters, and subsequently abandoned them. How the entire class banded together - for a change - to save the tiny lives, naming them after characters from _Rugrats_ in the process of nurturing them. And how she discovered that the otherwise intelligent creature was agorophobic.  
Todd had never seen a healthier rodent. Chuckie practically **gleamed**. And Sara had invested a great deal of money into making him comfortable, as he could see from the wide assortment of rodent tubing, toys, and the hand-crafted cardboard 'kennel' in his fishtank home.  
"But enough jibber-jabber. We need to get moving before Mom twigs."

(1) My poor little girl.

* * *

Meanwhile, Jean and Professor Xavier were discovering that Sara rarely joked when talking in shorthand.  
The assembled group of women were caught in the middle of a makeover party. Some were curling their hair while others were straightening it. Most wore some kind of facial pack. All glared at the interlopers as if, at any instant, their eyes would start glowing red.  
"Terribly sorry to intrude," soothed Xavier. "But we weren't able to conduct a proper conversation on the telephone. I thought, perhaps, if I bought a student representative of my school, it might allay some of your--" _bitching_ "--concerns."  
"Hi Mrs Adrien," Jean was uncertain which of these gargoyles was which, so she pitched to the assembly. "I'm Jean Grey, one of the Seniors at Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, and--"  
"Jean **Grey**," sang a brunette in a pink power suit. "I read **so** much about you in the local news." She stood and took her hand. "You must make your parents **so** proud."  
_Actually, I scare the living crap out of them,_ Jean thought behind her polite rictus. _But that's not a point I'm going to bring up in **here**._ Instead of verbalising a lie, however, she just laughed. Party Laugh number five, which meant, "I'm laughing politely because I haven't got anything nice to say." She rallied admirably, though, and continued from where she left off. "And we'd like to have your Sara join us. Along with her skill with the harp, we've discovered she has a very high IQ--"  
"Unless that stands for **idiot** quotient," iced Mrs Adrien, "I find that very hard to believe."  
Hetty Smith, replete with a maid's outfit, toured the room with petit fours. "Excuse me, m'm," she said, pretending Jean wasn't there. "M'seur Marchants is very upset. Apparently, someone has ordered **pizzas**, m'm."  
"Just take them down to the game room and tell M'seur that boys will be boys(1), and I will compensate him adequately for any distress he's experienced."  
"Yes'm." Hetty bobbed and withdrew from the room.  
If Jean knew Hetty, the news about Jean Grey visiting Sara's house would be all over the school before the hour was out. Well, Jean had even better ammunition if she **did** blab, and that was **how** Hetty found **out**. "Mrs Adrien, it's very easy for a genius to be misidentified as a trouble-maker. I, myself, had a similar problem," _Although **my** problem wasn't helped by hearing what other people thought..._ "When I was much younger, of course. Professor Xavier now has trained staff who can spot a -er- troubled youth and recommend testing." _Is it me, or am I talking **really** fast?_  
_It's excusable,_ 'said' the Professor. _I had trouble getting a word in edgewise, too._  
Mrs Adrien, however, was somewhat rocked by the news that Jean had had 'trouble' in her early life. "**You**... were misidentified?"  
Jean laughed. Party Laugh number three, "It's funny now, but it sure as hell wasn't funny **then**." "Oh yes," she said. "I was very withdrawn and moody, a situation not helped by the death of a close friend. I was bored with schoolwork and because of my depression, I began to ignore it. My grades slipped startlingly."  
"Fortunately," Xavier smoothly entered into the conversation, "I was performing a study on intelligent youths and why their grades were sometimes - erratic. I was able to help Jean overcome her difficulties and put her on the best path for her learning."  
_I suddenly feel like I'm on a platter with parsely in my ears,_ 'said' Jean. _"Here's one we prepared earlier..." Thanks a bunch, Prof._ "Everybody's been very pleased," she said with Party Laugh number eight, "Little miss humble."  
"Tell me, Professor," said Mrs Adrien. "Could you work a similar miracle with my **daughter**?" Interesting, how she used that word as an epithet.  
More tiny morsels were passed about by an older maid, thus distracting the room from three people carrying boxes down an adjacent hallway. Sara, Todd, and Ray, in that order.  
"I have no doubt that Sara will shine," he said, "once given a fair chance."  
"And -ah- how **foolproof** are your testing methods?" asked a co-gorgon.  
"One hundred percent," chirped Jean. "The IQ test is just one of many that we use in order to ascertain if a student is gifted." _And one of them is called the X-gene. If you don't have it, you don't get in._ "We're very exclusive."  
Another gorgon spoke. "Still, one can't help but hear things about some of your - alumnus... That Wagner boy, for instance. Always acting up." She pronounced it incorrectly as 'WAG-ner'.  
Therefore, Xavier stressed the correct pronunciation when he spoke. "Kurt **Wagner** is battling a relatively high number of concurrent stresses. He's coping with a new culture, a new language, a new routine **and** a lot of new faces, all at the same time." He tented his fingers. "I challenge any of you to move to a different country and continue in a similar vein without - some kind of trouble. And yet Mr Wagner is adapting marvellously well."  
There were general murmurings along the lines of, "What do you expect - he's **foreign**," amongst the gorgons.  
"How much does this exclusive school of yours cost?" said Mrs Adrien. "And more importantly, can I sign some contract that guarantees her stay will last for two and a half more years?"  
"Is it a boarding school?" said a fellow gorgon.  
"We prefer our students to live on the premises, so yes, it is a boarding school. As for the cost... whatever you feel comfortable with donating is **fine**." He smiled benevolently and 'pushed' a thought into Mrs Adrien's mind. _Give the man some money,_ went the meme. _He's taking that girl off your hands._  
"I suppose it couldn't hurt to cut a cheque," she mused. "Just to defray a few costs."  
"Anything you donate is fully tax-deductable," Jean added. _God, how could someone so rich be so tight-fisted?_  
_One of the mysteries of life, alas._

(1) The official policy on any male wrongdoing in Sara's mother's side of the family.

* * *

"And the books are **done**," crowed Sara. "Now for my clothes, computer, tchotchkes, hamham, and sundry other bits and pieces. And Eileen."  
"Yo' takin' **everythin'**, ain't'cha?"  
"Well, I'm not moving my makeup-slash-film lab. That'd take three trucks and I'm **sure** the Professor wouldn't approve."  
"Yo' **amazin'**," he said appreciatively. "C'mon, let's book." He turned, only to find his way blocked by what could only be described as a bubbly blonde.  
"Sara Louise, I knew it was you," squeaked the girl. She held her arms stiff, but bounced about in such a way as to make Todd search her shoulders for signs of a wind-up key. "My mom said your mom's been feeling **poorly**."  
Sara's shoulders drooped. "Hello, Cricket," she said. "What are you doing outside after dark(1)?"  
"Oh, I came by to see why you were sneaking around and all," she chirped. "Are those going to Goodwill?"  
"They're certainly going to **someone's** good will," said Sara. "Please, Cricket, I don't have time to dally." She began walking, taking Todd's arm in a firm grip and hustling him along.  
Cricket bounced in their wake. "But I have to tell you my good news! I'm going to be working with the Junior-year cheerleaders! Isn't that **fantastic**?"  
"Yeah," deadpanned Sara. "Astounding."  
"And I owe it all to my mom buying me those special silicone bra-stuffers! It's always okay if you just need a **little** help!" Her platinum curls bounced when she did as she followed them inside. "Everyone uses them, these days!"  
"Cricket..." Sara sighed. "Can you please quiet down? My mom shouldn't be disturbed when--"  
"Your **mother**," said a creature that could only be Mrs Adrien herself. "Is **already** disturbed. Why are you creeping around through the **servants'** entrance? Who is this young man? And **what** sort of perverted ideas are you selling to poor young Cricket?"  
Todd saw Sara's face fall. He could read that expression all too well. _Oh **crap**..._

(1) I can just hear Sara thinking, _There goes the theory about hidden solar cells._

* * *

There is no feeling as bad as encountering someone or something that one has been attempting to avoid.  
Sara imagined that, if the helmsman on the Titanic knew the ship's fate as the iceberg gently bumped along her side, he would have felt the sick, sinking trepidation that Sara felt now.  
No matter what happened, there was going to be a disaster.  
One hand reached out, unbidden and spasmodic, for Todd's. He squeezed back.  
"Well?" said Mom. "Aren't you going to be feeding me lies about how you weren't doing anything or saying anything? Or are you just going to stand there like a landed fish and prove how much your so-called IQ is pure cock-and-bull? I don't know how much or how badly you cheated, young lady, but you can **bet** I will find **out**!"  
"I was just shifting some things out," murmured Sara. "I didn't want to be a bother."  
"You were a bother on the day you were **born**, little **miss**! From the moment you started in my **womb** you were a bother! I don't even know why I **tried** to have you! And STOP THAT TWITCHING THIS INSTANT! Do you want other people to **see** you like this?"  
Cricket had fled. Todd remained as her lifeline.  
"N-nnnnn..." damn stammer. Damn twitching. And bother Xavier for telling her not to box them up. "Nnnnnn..."  
"Jean **Grey** never had trouble like this! Jean **Grey** is a **good** daughter! Even when she was in dire straights, she stood out from the crowd and landed herself a **scholarship**! Jean **Grey** has **always** been a good girl! She never caused half as much trouble as **you**. Why can't you **do** something with yourself? Why can't you accomplish anything? **Why** are you holding that street punk's **hand**?"

Jean Grey did, despite what Mrs Adrien thought, have vices. One of them was being almost fatally curious. Therefore, she'd excused herself to powder her nose, and followed Mrs Adrien to see where she was going.  
And now she got an earful.  
It was always said that evesdroppers never heard any good about themselves, and it was partially true, here and now. Hearing her name thrown like a weapon, accompanied by the whimpers and moans of Sara, was an ugly, ugly thing.  
_I never knew I was an instrument of torture..._ She stepped into the room, clearing her throat and pretending she'd been deaf. "Excuse me?"  
In a literal flash, Mrs Adrien was cloyingly sweet and kind-natured again. "Something I can help you with, dear?"  
"I'm afraid I'm a little lost," she lied. "Can you show me where the ladies' room is?" she added Party Laugh number one, "Aren't I a little silly?"  
"Of course, sweetie." Mrs Adrien took her arm. "**This** way."  
Jean smiled winningly in the grip of an urban monster. _This must be why they like **pretty** virgins in their sacrifices... to distract them while the heroes can rally their forces._

Ray hustled them into the kitchen, appologised to someone called M'seur Marchants, and made a quick hot chocolate for the both of them.  
"Sorry you had to see that," Sara whimpered. She shook violently as she sipped her drink.  
"Yo, I wouldn't be no good boyfriend if I left yo' t' face a Dragon alone." Todd found he had more than a few trembles himself. "Y'know, some o' the ole ones from legends spat poison?"  
Sara laughed. "Apt. Oh, so apt." Her breath shuddered in and sighed out. "I am **so** glad I'm leaving her."  
"Yeah. Change is holiday." Todd hugged her. "It be cool, yo. You get better wit'out no poison Dragons aroun'."  
"Oh God," Sara whimpered. "I just realised I owe Jean Grey a favour... What do you do for the girl who already has everything going for her."  
"A week free of Toad slimin's?" he grinned. "I can make up a li'l certificate..."  
Sara giggled. "You're sweet, dear, but this is my debt to pay. I'll find something, anon."  
"And meanwhile," said Ray, "we have to **get** on."  
"And on, anon, anon," joked Sara. "I'll pack, you boys ferry. If anyone asks, Todd's a friend from school."  
"Hey, yo. We share Biology class, a'ight?" he grinned.  
The joke worked. "Oh yes. That would work. You my bad boy." She kissed his cheek. "Come, love. Away, away..."

* * *

AN: Today's colour is "Kurt's fur" blue. 


	25. 25

AN: Thanks again to my very, very nice reviewers

Readerrr Grrrl: You can find more of this story on my BBS as I'm writing it. Just ease on down to my site and check out the Bulletin Board. I think the rest of it should be intuitive.

* * *

Some things were easy. Underwear drawer, take out and tip wholesale into box. T-shirt drawers, remove and follow a similar plan. Four or five times. Squish, seal, stack. Onto the next box. Socks, nighties, dressing gown, towelling robe... and from her wardrobe, three long garment covers, where her work clothes - the only three dresses she used - usually rested. Lather, rinse, repeat. Her hidden workbooks - essential for her sanity and sorted by date - went under a pile of toys from atop Vincent.  
One box held nothing but cables.  
Another box contained some of the more resillient and smaller Vincent-bits, whereas the monitor and case would just go along wholesale.  
Ray picked up her Lost Hope Chest.  
"Oh, and when you get down there, again, could you make sure Eileen gets aboard?"  
"It's going to be a tight squeeze, miss."  
"I'm easily capable of fitting myself into small spaces," she smiled. "I compact rather well."  
Ray gave her his patented I-didn't-think-that-was-very-amusing-and-neither-should-you glare, mixed with a dash of exasperation. But then again, he'd been the one who had to come to school and extract her from the desk cupboard in question.  
Next on the list of movables - Chuckie. He would travel with her in his hamster ball, that was the easy part.  
The hard part was packing his warren, his toys, and the sundry other hamster parephenalia. Especially without squashing his little kennel in the process.  
And after she solved that particular problem, she'd have to dissassemble her shelves.  
Yike.  
No wonder the process of moving house was as traumatic as a death in the family.

* * *

Professor Charles Xavier had been in awkward conversations, before, but this one had turned almost embaressingly painful when the assembled women had realised he was both Old Money and **single**. Quite a few of them - and he was certain because of his telepathy - were toting up the time and expenditure necessary for a divorce so they could outdo Jaquelline and wed a millionaire.  
Jaquelline Adrien, of course, had already married a millionaire, and actually loved her husband with a kind of brutal competativeness.  
Love, for all these women, was a competition.  
He could see the pattern with the varying daughters. Girls who excelled at their mothers' rather limited set of high standards were praised and groomed for higher goals. And as for the 'failures'... he'd seen what 'failing' had done to Sara. And the peculiar dynamic of the entire -well- tribe seemed to be that love was only availlable for one person at a time.  
Sara had obviously been taught to have a more encompassing heart by her father's side of the family... but in her mother's eye, she was a rival.  
At around this point, Charles actually noticed the room.  
It was a monument to faded beauty and fleeting fame. Trophies, carefully arranged according to priority, sat preserved in a display case. News clippings accompanied original photos, and sometimes, more ameteur photos in tasteful frames. The more memorable events included enlargements.  
In this room, Sara had stopped being mentioned when she was five. She was simply edited out of the commentary.  
He realised someone had asked him a direct question. "I do beg your pardon, I was a little distracted. My apologies."  
"I said, how are the social functions in your -ah- particular area, Professor?"  
_Translation, what sort of things will we have to attend in order to gain your attentions?_  
"Not very many, I'm afraid," he said. "I'm usually caught up in the day-to-day mundanities of school administration... but I will attempt to make time to attend student recitals." He smirked to himself, even though he was inundated with images of having to watch thirty-so kids fumble ameteurishly through whatever act they had put together. "I actually find them somewhat amusing." _And now that I'm safely off their little list of potential second grooms... Jean? You've been very quiet, lately._  
_Who? Me? I'm just trying to eat this shit sandwitch without gagging._ She broke from her polite smile in order to sip at her carbonated beverage. _Adrians was actually right about something. These women **are** gorgons._ Those thoughts included a play-by-play recollection of an in-house harangue at ground zero.  
_Well, say something nice about the Institute before the room gets completely off topic and we have to be subjected to baby photos._  
_Eep! Fate worse than death!_ "Speaking of recitals," Jean chirped, "we were thinking about staging a self-defence exhibition somewhere down the line. Logan's courses have been a real boon, especially to some of the shier students." She smiled winningly at the room. "I can definitely say it helped with my public speaking."  
"Logan? You allow your students to address their tutors by **name**?"  
"Only if they feel comfortable with it," said Xavier. "And Logan... has his ways of making one feel comfortable." _It usually takes the average student twenty-four hours to work out he's something of a marshmallow,_ Xavier added inwardly.  
"So what does he teach? Kung fu? Ju jitsu?"  
_Ro cham bo(1)? No..._ "All of the above, and some - unique methods for maintaining personal safety," Jean smiled. "Logan used to be in the army, at one stage."  
The room nodded as one to her explanation. Army men knew how to disarm terrorists with a **spoon**.  
_Wow. I'm starting to think I sell them a bridge,_ Jean 'said'.  
_We're all packed,_ Sara sent, loud as a bullhorn, but also obviously trying not to be. _Any time you're ready._  
"Do you have any questions, Mrs Adrien?" Xavier prompted. "About my school?"  
"What's your policy on expulsion?" 

(1) South Park reference. Opponents kick each other "square in the nuts" for possession of a contended item.

* * *

Charles Xavier understood a great deal more about Sara, and why all four of them felt it necessary to breathe a deep sigh of relief once they passed the gates and headed on out of Manor Hill.  
"**Man**," sighed Jean. "I'm glad my parents are only scared of me."  
"Mom's okay when Dad's home," said Sara, in a contorted huddle/tangle amongst the debris plus Todd in the back. "He has a knack for disarming people. Alas, that's why he's somewhere in the middle of Russia..." she sighed. "November seventeenth. He'll be home then."  
"Yo, you oughta write a book. Be the best tell-all since _Mommy Dearest_," said Todd.  
"Tempting, but I'd get worse." One of her size thirteen trainers appeared in the rearview mirror. "Can you stop by the Brotherhood place? We still have to pick up Eileen."  
"Um. Is that some kind of weird pet?" Jean wondered.  
"My bike. I saved her, so I have to look after her."  
_Sir?_  
_We might as well pick it up, rather than test her enginuity, don't you think?_  
_As long as she doesn't leave engine parts in the common room, I'll be fine._ She turned, pulling up at the boarding house, which was looking extravagantly seedy. Mystique was not around, and Magneto had obviously written the Brotherhood off as a bad loss.  
That, to use a Sara phrase, would not **do**. 

Eileen loaded in the back and the van safely underway once more - Todd had leaned out of a portal to assure Lance that he was fine, helping Sara move her stuff, and there was a promise of a skin treatment in the near future - Sara allowed herself to twitch a little as she drank yet another litre of water.  
She sincerely hoped that setting up again would be enriching, somehow.  
"Oh!" Sara blurted. "I entirely forgot. Where exactly am I staying, Professor?"  
"Second floor," he intoned, "end of the hallway, on the left."  
"That's - **my** room," said Jean. "Am I moving?"  
"No," said the Professor. "You're sharing."  
Sara went fuge.

* * *

For Todd, it was a very scary twenty minutes. Sara just - wasn't at home, and her body twitched in alarming ways. Every now and again, an ugly sound would issue forth as air expelled from her lungs caught her vocal cords.  
He didn't even know he was crying until later. "Come back to me, baby, **please**," he whispered urgently. "Come back to me. C'mon Sara... you can't let this beat yo'..." He cajoled and implored in a similar vein for the entire time she was gone. He tried to hold her steady. He tried kissing her cheek. He tried hugging her. He tried brushing her face.  
Somewhere on the periphery of his awareness, Baldy and Miss Priss were having an argument.  
"All I'm saying is that there are **plenty** of other rooms you could give her."  
"I never denied it," said Xavier. "But you no longer have the excuse of your lack of control. You will have to have a roommate, and Sara happens to need a room."  
"But she's a newb! She's **loud**!"  
"All the more reason for you to maintain your night shields then, wouldn't you think?"  
"You're doing this to me on purpose! It's not fair!"  
"It's fairer than the alternative of having something similar happen by accident," said the Professor. "I know from experience that getting caught without adequate shielding is - painful."  
"Shielding, schmielding... do you **know** what she gets up to?"  
"Do **you** truly know what she does?"  
"Well I heard--"  
"Forget rumour, Jean," interrupted the Professor. "What do you truly **know**?"  
"Ad-- ah... um. Er."  
"Exactly. Perhaps you could research her tomorrow? Seperate the truth from the fiction, and produce an analysis thereof."  
"We both know there's no 'perhaps' about it," snarled Jean. "You're going to **make** me."  
"Now you're just being petulant. Really, Jean. I expected more of you."  
The van came to an aggressive halt. "Well maybe you just expect too much!" She left the car and slammed the door.  
Sara blinked. "Oh, darn. Did I harm anything?"  
"Nuttin' that won't heal, babe," he smiled. "You look way better when you're in charge, y'know."  
"Terribly sorry, darling. I didn't mean to scare you. It's just - I never thought I'd be sharing her **airspace**."  
Logan opened Baldy's door. "Trouble in paradise?" he asked.  
"Jean's merely confronted with the realisation that she's set up her own obstacles," said the Professor. "She'll face up to the reality of it soon enough."  
The burly man grunted at that and, after helping the Professor into his chair, opened up the back of the van. "Damn, Tallwater. How'd you fit yourself in there?"  
"I believe it required a shoehorn."

* * *

AN: Today's colour is heliotrope. (Or it would be if FFN hadn't suddenly disabled the colour function for some reason ::whistles innocently::) Look for a webcomic called "Pastel Defender Heliotrope" and give plenty of props, love and some cashola to Jennifer Diane Reitz 


	26. 26

  
Logan merely grunted. He'd come prepared, this time, with a handcart and the 'volunteered' services of a few people who needed to be tired out by curfew. This meant Elf, Porcupine, and the kid. At least the kid was a sort of self-made locust swarm of helping hands... even if one random clone seemed to act a little - funny(1).  
Tallwater was the obsessive sort of mover who labelled every box.  
"All right. One box per move, carry 'em from the bottom, not the handles, and leave the heavy stuff to me. Got it?"  
"Yessir!" The assembled group of prankers saluted.  
True to form, one of the kid's clones lifted up a blanket. "What's under here?"  
"That's Eileen," said Tallwater, still in the middle of her boxes of stuff. "I sort of rescued her from the junkpile."  
The clone made a face, but didn't say anything nasty.  
It was Logan that did the double-take. "Good **God**..." he muttered. An L-579... she was still magnificent, even though she was obviously in a very bad way. "How much'd you get 'er for?"  
"Well... I sort of found her in a recycling yard. The watchman said if I could make her go and drive her out of the gate, she was mine for free. So... fifteen hours hard labour plus emotional trauma?"  
The bicycle afficionado inside him whimpered and bit his fist. Outside, his face was unreadable. "Sweat equity," he muttered. "Huh." He'd had **dreams**, once, of picking up a bike this rare on sweat equity. Tallwater probably didn't know how much this bike was really worth, to a collector. He laid aside his prejudices, though, and helped wheel the aged moped into a secure corner or the garage. It would keep.  
Meantime, he had an assload of books to cart up to Red's room. Tallwater had gotten cute. Each box was labelled; 'books', 'more books', 'still more books', 'even more books' and so on. There was even a 'books 2.0'.  
The minute she and Froggy could extract themselves, they did, each picking a box and hauling it like all the others.  
One box, he couldn't help noticing, was labelled, 'shelves'. "Chuck's got plenty of shelvin' if you want it, Tallwater."  
"I'd rather not waste the resources," she chirped. "Besides, mother--" twitch "would only throw them out after she discovered my absence. They represent quite a bit of scrounging time, after all."  
Even more disturbing was the hope chest, on which she'd added the word 'lost' at some time in her past. _Chuck's gonna have a hellovatime with **this** gal._

Sara's cell chirped. Unlisted or restricted number. She hit the talk button. "Sara Louise Adrien."  
"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" It was Mother in full warpath mode. "How **DARE** you leave this house without my permission! You wait until your **father** hears about this! I'm calling the authorities!"  
Sara put herself in Vulcan mode. "The authorities will doubtless repeat that I am well within my legal rights to live where I choose, Mother. Rest assured that I am safe and well, and will come to no lingering harm. Barring the unforseen, of course."  
"You have no right to speak to me like this! I am your **MOTHER**!"  
"Yes. You are my mother. As for the rest of it... how can you tell that I do not possess recordings of your - diatribes? I'm certain the authorities would love to hear about your regular verbal abuse."  
"This is **blackmail**! After I did **everything** for you! You **ungrateful**--"  
"I have to go, mother." Sara shed a tear from inside the Vulcan mask. "I'm afraid you're hazardous to my mental health." She hung up and turned the cellular phone off. Only then, did she allow herself to weep.

(1) Someone, somewhere posited the "one clone is retarded" theorem to Jamie's multiplication. I'm going with it.

* * *

There was a clearly delineated border between Sara's space and Jean's, even before the piles of Sara's things had completely been moved in. That line was both clearly visible and sacrosanct to Sara. Even in the depths of yet **another** mood swing, she stayed on her side of the invisible line.  
Todd held her close and brushed her hair, adding the occasional kiss to reassure her that at least **one** person valued her as a human being and would not easily leave. In fact, the only thing that distracted her from her crying jag was that he tucked her hair behind her ears.  
On the third such tuck, and her subsequent dragging of her brown locks back over them, she protested. "Don't. Please. They're perpendicular."  
"Ain't," he protested. Todd captured a hand and re-tucked some hair behind the closest ear. "I love all of yo'. Even your beautiful," he kissed her earlobe, "parallel," another kiss, high up on the cartilage, "ears." A third kiss, on the little bump of flesh guarding the aural canal, near to her cheekbone.  
And at that precise moment, just as she was beginning to bend to his ministrations, Logan leaned in. "No makin' out in the bedrooms. Both of ya."  
"Hey. Yo. I might be scum, but I ain't no asshole," Todd shot back.  
Sara scrubbed her hair back into place and blushed furiously. "I suppose I'd better get on with these shelves," she murmured, sorting out pieces from the box.  
"Lemme help?" asked Todd. "I'm pretty okay with a hex key."  
Darn it, now everything sounded sordid. Sara blushed furiously, but gave him a pile of parts that would eventually turn into a bookcase. She constructed a labyrinth of sorts, guarding her bed - made up and resolutely bland, the only provided furniture besides the dresser and a study desk - and emphasising the line. Sealing her off from the view of Jean "I'm perfect" Grey and any lingering wrath.  
People like Jean had always abhorred people like Sara. Therefore, Sara reasoned, the best thing to do was to act like they were in seperate, if adjoining, rooms.  
Maybe some kind of curtain would aid in that, later. If she needed it.  
For all she knew, Jean Grey might actually be a fantastic person. And tonight, she would have a perfect opportunity to get to know her.  
_Think of it,_ Sara told herself, _as your first sleepover. Only with more accessories._  
Chuckie, still in his hamster ball, was roving around the room and sniffing at things.  
"Like, hi," a perky freshman Sara vaguely recalled poked her head in. "You must be the girl Jean's like, totally freaking over. Need a hand?"  
_Chaperone,_ thought Sara at the exact same time that Todd said, "Logan send you here as a chaperone?"  
The girl rolled her eyes. "Shyeah. Kinda. But he also kinda gave me the idea that you'd like, like to be set up before dinnertime? And he's like, totally nervy about having one of the Brotherhood over."  
"Todd's here at my invitation," Sara never stopped working on her shelving. "And under a flag of truce. Besides, I'm not in the habit of abandoning friends because of anyone else's disproval."  
"I'm Kitty," Kitty parked herself near some shelving and began to attach bits to other bits. "Are you and the **Toad** like, going out?"  
Sara pulled back her hood. "Not unless Haloween's come early."  
"Omi**gawd**... You're **Essel**!"  
"Sara Louise Adrien, please. Adrian Essel is a fabrication of narrow minds and cloth ears."  
"Y'know, the grape vine says you totally--"  
"I know," Sara interupted. "Does anyone bother to check the possible veracity of any of those rumours? Most of the ones **I've** heard are anatomically impossible... even if I **was** a male."  
A moment of supreme confusion. "So you're **really**..." she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at about boob level, trying to come up with a term.  
"Menstruating," suggested Sara. "Yes."  
"Euw!"  
"It's only our androcentric society that makes it an unpleasant thing," said Sara. "In gynocentric cultures, it's a rite of passage. A confirmation of adulthood."  
"Euw..." Kitty shuddered. "**So** not my thing. Do you like, need this many shelves?"  
"Wait until you see my assembled collection. Books, media, hamster, luckpieces, PC guardians... and some few trophies."  
"You **won** stuff?"  
"Eons ago, it seems. Ancient history, now." Sara righted a bookcase and placed in the last few pieces. Almost done building. Almost time to stock the shelves, as it were. At least she didn't have to hide anything, here.  
She hoped.

* * *

Kurt watched. He was good at it. There was a steady flow of people, one per quarter-hour on average, from Jean's pity party in the common room to the congregation upstairs. In what used to be Jean's sanctuary. He was never rude enough to say it, but he'd had the lingering suspicion that she used her room as a kind of extra shield. Something to rely on and retreat into when her head hurt or the steady sussuration of minds at work got to be too much.  
Curiosity compelled him upstairs. After all, he knew what Jean moaning about something or other looked like, by now. Only Scott, fiercely loyal and in love to the point of stupidity, actually stayed.  
There was music. Something in the tone of it made him think of vinyl. Guitars and banjos. A hymn of sorts.  
"You've got to - prime the pump, you must have faith and believe. You've got to - give a lot of yourself before you're worthy to receive. Drink all the water you can hold, wash your face, cool your feet. But leave a bottleful for others, thank you kindly, Desert Pete."  
And then Bobby's voice. "How do you skip tracks?"  
"**You** don't," said Sara. "It's very technical and requires a delicate touch. So put up with songs you dislike, if you please."  
Only Sara could be that polite while telling someone off.  
"Is there a fast forward?" Bobby was still clueless about vinyl.  
Kurt decided to intercede. "It's from before fast forward was invented. Leave the record alone, ja?"  
"How in hell do **you** know about it?" Bobby enquired.  
"Hello? I'm from an isolated whitebread mountain town that **just** got connected to the internet. Of **course** I know about it." People were swarming, placing books on Sara's shelves and rearranging the articles of interest, which included the hamster tubing. The hamster in question was barely visible as a set of whiskers inside a miniature kennel. Kurt decided not to bother the poor creature.  
"D'ye think Jean'll mind if we hang these in 'er closet?" Rahne gestured with three long garment bags.  
"Of course she'd mind," said Rogue. "Just hang 'em on the pole over the dresser. 'S what it's there for."  
Todd, Kurt noticed, rarely left a five-pace circle around Sara. Well. If **he** was in - essentially - enemy territory with a girl he really liked, he'd stick close, too.  
The record finished with a minimum of fuss from Bobby, who usurped Sara's computer and queued up every MP3 he could find. He found out that Sara's musical tastes were both ecclectic and strange.  
The first song that played was by ELO, which pretty much said it all. The next one, by They Might Be Giants, filled in any blanks for the slow learners. By Paul McCartney's _Off The Ground_, certain people who knew about Kurt's own Beatlemania were rolling their eyes and groaning under their breath.  
Kurt just grooved along and joined the 'lala la lalala's and said nothing.  
Several of Sara's books were in a fragile state, owing to multiple re-readings. Kurt treated these with the care that a well-loved book deserves and took note of titles he knew. _The Neverending Story_, _The Princess Bride_ and the entire Vorkosigan and Discworld series.  
Sara was in good company.

* * *

Hank had come up with a skin potion to soothe his itches and, as an extra added bonus, it acted like soap without making him ill. And, since Sara had successfully set up all her things, he had less and less real reason to hang around.  
Sara sensed this, even though he hadn't said anything.  
Maybe it was Logan, hovering around with Scooterboy, making throat clearing noises and obviously glaring from Todd to the door.  
Their conversation limped along. Are you going to be okay tomorrow? Yes. Do you need anything? No. And, finally, Guess I'd better call Lance.  
"Kitty beat you to it," Scott muttered into his hand.  
Sara ignored him. "Don't skip school on my account, darling. That miracle potion of Dr McCoy's should help slough off any dead skin."  
"If **Pie** doesn't steal it."  
"Tell him it'll turn his skin green."  
He laughed, in spite of the dying-date mood. "Yo, that might actually **work**... yo' cool at stuff like that."  
"It's just elementary psychology, I--"  
"Aaaaah?"  
She blushed. "Thank you."  
Lance's jeep pulled up outside the glass doors and, because Lance was the impatient sort who liked his little ducks where he knew they were safe, he started leaning on the horn.  
"Moovit, Toad!"  
"Patience is a virtue," Sara called. "I-- I'll miss you."  
"Miss you too." Now they held both hands, staring into each other's eyes. "I'll try to swing by, y'know. After."  
"I'll anticipate every moment."  
Beeeep BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! "Goddamn it! Hurry the fuck up!"  
Sara sighed. "No sympathy in him."  
"Jealous as," Todd soothed. "They don' let him make time wit' **his** girlfriend."  
"Then we'd best make the best of our overtime," she murmured, leaning in.  
Todd leaned up into the kiss, savouring the taste of her. The soft warmth of her lips. Her scent. The fact that she was kissing him **back**. The tactile thrill of her scales. The feathery tickle of her lovely hair...  
"Ah, Mr Tolensky."  
They broke to boggle at the Professor.  
"Gooseberries(1) to the left of us... Gooseberries to the right of us..." muttered Sara.  
_Hello? I was kissing my girl goodbye, here..._ Todd tried not to visibly fume. "Yo. 'Sup?"  
"Have you thought of obtaining an afternoon job?" said the Professor. _I know,_ he 'said' inside Todd's head, _but Mr Alvers was entertaining visions of prybars._  
_He can fuck himself,_ Todd 'said' back. Damn, this was tricky. "I tried, keep tryin', yo. Nobody likes th' look o' me."  
"How would you like gainful employment in an establisment that is notoriously **non**-lookist?" He gestured around him to indicate **which** establishment he was talking about.  
"**What**?" said Scooterboy. "But **sir**--"  
"You **ain't** serious," warned Logan.  
"I doubt if Mr Tolensky has any lingering motive to damage us," breezed the Professor. "Do you?"  
He and Sara looked at each other, hope making sparks in their eyes. Sara mouthed his thoughts, "We could see each other..."  
"Hell no, yo. I never wanted t' fight in the first place," he said. "'Sides, I keep getting my ass handed to me."  
Lance, who had left the jeep and opened the door, gawped. "No bullshit, right? This is a legit thing?"  
"As legitimate as you please," said the Professor. "We could draw up a legal contract..."  
"Naw, I'd prefer something we can get out of. Y'awna do this, Toad?"  
Another look at Sara. "More'n anythin'."  
"...fuck..." he moaned. "You have a deal."  
Both he and Sara yawped, jumped, and hugged each other in jubilation. At least, until Lance dragged him wholesale into the Jeep.  
"You," he announced as they pulled away from the estate, "are entirely pussy-whipped."  
"Oh, like you ain't," he shot back.  
His reply was the typical finger. Always the automatic response of the slow of mind.  
Todd just grinned like a bastard.

(1) Ancient slang term for someone who interrupts and spoils a date. Repeatedly. On purpose.

* * *

AN: Today's colour (if it works) is "Sara's scales" aqua. #66CCCC if ya must know. This is what I see as her 'base colour'. 


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